The Hunt
by kelly54me
Summary: This is a sequel to "Undone". That being said: Miles has set out to carve a bloody path through Murkoff, though the closer he gets to accomplishing this goal the more clear a terrible truth becomes. Now Miles finds himself not only in a fight for justice (or revenge) but also at the center of a far greater struggle. M for language/violence. There is a sequel called "Losers".
1. Another Great Day

AN: Hi guys in case you missed it while reading the summary, this is a sequel to a fic called Undone I wrote a while ago and there are major spoilers for that other story in here so if you haven't, go read that one first. Also, just like in the last story, I use the **bold** and _italic_ fonts to differentiate between Miles and the Walrider. Also, also here's the standard disclaimer of I don't own the main characters or the setting.

Now, here's the story:

It was nearly a year later and they were still running the same story. Every news program, every entertainment outlet, from ABC, to Fox, to BBC, to CNN, to MSNBC, to NBC, sixty minutes, Saturday Night Live. It didn't matter, they all sang the same song. Murkoff was doomed.

Right now even, as I'm sitting in a dingy Chicago motel, a 20/20 special is flickering across the TV.

The footage was of a crowded street, outside of the city court house. One very important man moved frantically through a gaggle of reporters. The special went on explaining who he was, what was happening, and what was so special about it. But I already knew.

That man was Murkoffs CEO and founder. That man was going to trial for the absolute litany of shit he'd caused. The charges ranged from money laundering, to conspiracy to commit murder, to actual murder, to forgery, and at least half a dozen othering things. That man was going to walk, free of all the fallout that he deserved.

My skin started to crawl from the thought. I stood up from the bed I had been sitting on.

That footage was shot less than a week ago; the proceedings were still going on, which was why I was in town. For his army of lawyers, for his millions of dollars, for all of his friends in high places, I wasn't about to let this bastard get off free.

Not after everything he'd caused.

The memory Waylon lying dead at the feet of his own children stood like a beacon in my thoughts. The car ride away from that man's profit-obsessed hell hole whirled through my mind.

I had sat behind the wheel of some schmucks electric car. In the back seat were Waylon's sons, Connor and Garret. The quiet was unbearable, nearly suffocating, but I couldn't even begin to think of what to say. What could I have said? How much had they understood? What had happened to them? I stole a glance at them through the rearview. For a second I made eye contact with the younger one, Connor. Not wanting to even think about starting a conversation I looked away.

Unfortunately, I was a bit too slow.

"You're Miles" I glanced back into the rearview. Connor was looking down at his feet, Garret, sitting to his left, stared wild-eyed at him, as if it was the first time he'd heard Connor speak in a month, "you're dad's friend" He finished mumbling.

Was I? I'd treated Waylon like crap, the last time I'd talked to him I'd wanted to rip his head off, and for what? Sending me an email begging for help? We had both needed a friend, but I hadn't been one. Despite hating myself for the lie I replied "ya, I am"

"oh, ok" Connor nearly whispered back.

The drive through the desert was long and filled with a quiet desperation. I had to right things. I had to do good by all those people who'd been forgotten and left to die, I had to make sure someone paid.

 _Fantasizing about revenge again, are we?_

"Not now, ghost" I told the Walrider. I wasn't in the mood for a verbal sparring match with my mental house guest.

 _Please, that's all you ever think about anymore. If you're not plotting the takedown of some Murkoff official, then you're picking who the next target is._

"Don't pretend you have a problem with that" I said while shrugging into a coat.

 _I don't. But thinking about revenge is boring compared to actually ripping people to shreds._

"That's awfully impatient, even by your standards"

I began lacing up my boots as the Walrider went on.

 _We could just go in, paint the room with Roberts -and anyone who happens to be standing next to him- then call it a day._

Hearing the CEO's last name from inside my own mind made me twitch in annoyance.

"Give it time. I don't just want him dead, I want him to suffer."

 _Someone's in a good mood today._

I struggled and failed not to sound annoyed "I'm absolutely elated."

The Walrider didn't make a comment back at me as I walked out of the hotel room. There was enough snow on the ground to pile up to my knee, what with it bein early november, and if the pale gray sky was anything to go by there was more on the way. Leaving the hotel I went northward, towards the lake. The sidewalks were a bit more empty than your average ghost town and I was really missing having my own car.

Not that it mattered. I didn't have a driver's license anymore, or any credit cards, or even my bank account. Last time I checked my apartment was back up for rent too. Murkoff had been very thorough when they decided to wipe my name from every record book they could get their hands on.

 _Although that backfired hilariously_

 **True.**

The first person I'd set my sights on was the regional supervisor for Murkoff Research and Development in the Mid-west. As soon as he saw me coming he decided to report me to the police for stalking and making threats. When my name didn't come up in the cops system- or anywhere else- they started going after him for making false reports. After a while he drove himself crazy with paranoia and was admitted to an insane asylum.

I caught myself snickering at the irony.

Stifling my laughter I walked on through the snow.

 _Really though, we should stop dancing around and just go after Roberts._

 **I have a plan, just go with it. Besides, death is too good for that peice of shit.**

 _That's what you say about all of the murkoff workers_

 **It's not any less true,** memories of my night in hell were still fresh on my mind. It was nearly a year ago and it was as vivid as the day after. **Everytime I look down at my hands I'm slapped with the reminder that nothing is too bad for them.**

I was flooded with a million reasons not to forgive or forget: Waylon's desperate letter, the death of him and Lisa in front of their children, the mutilation and slaughter of a thousand sick men, the kidnapping of children.

 **Besides, they don't show so much as a trace of a conscience. Why should I?**

 _You shouldn't. It's good to know that we see eye to eye on at least that topic._

As much as I wished it would, that comment didn't send my skin crawling.

 _Now. If we could agree on a method…_

 **Oh no you don't. We're doing this my way.**

 _That is, the most brutal and severe way plausible._

 **Says the demon who wants to make it literally rain men.**

 _Yes, exactly. That way we terrify the remaining targets and it's very, very fun._

I rounded the corner of yet another empty frozen street.

 **You're missing the point. Besides, you get to have your fun in the end.**

 _Ah yes, the point. What was that again? Get revenge?_

 **No, it's about justice. It's what these people deserve. You should know that, you were there, at Mount Massive from the very beginning.**

 _Yes, and I had some fun at first. Then it got boring._

 **Then you know that these monsters shouldn't get off so easy.**

 _You can drop the moral crusade act. We both know that this is all about petty revenge. Before they trapped us and made it personal you were still touting about saying that they need to be brought down with your idiotic laws._

 **Petty! It's not petty, and this is still justice, but some of them are too big for the law. They'll never get what's coming unless I give it to them.**

 _Right. It's not personal at all. This is all about serving society and dispensing justice._ I took a turn without paying attention, _please, we both know that thats a lie._

 **It is n-**

"Please, yo-you can have my wallet"

I'd taken a wrong turn down an alley and straight into a mugging. Great. Out of the thousands of empty back streets I just had to walk into this one. Not wanting to get involved, I started to back out of the place. During my oh-so stealthy retreat I might have tripped over a half snow-covered trash can lid. The clattering of metal on concrete and my own colorful swearing caught both the mugger and the victim's attention.

The battered looking mugger peered over his shoulder at me, the hyperventilating mugee seemed to be silently begging for help. Stumbling, the mugger tilted himself until he halfway faced me, he held what was obviously a pocket knife in his hand.

"Get out!" he snarled at me as he pinned the other man against the wall.

I'd been outside for a grand total of twenty minuets and it was already a bad day, as I looked back at the wild man with the knife I knew it could only get worse.


	2. High and Mighty

AN: Hey guys, here's chapter 2. I forgot to mention it last time but there will be a new chapter every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Thanks for reading and if you have questions/comments don't be afraid to leave a review. Anyhow, I hope y'all enjoy the chapter:

"I told you to get the hell out!" the man with the knife brandished it threateningly.

"Ok," I held up my hands, considering my options "it's ok, I'm just going to…"

I looked back at the poor bastard pinned to the wall, "I'll just be…" it's like he's begging for help

 _Looks like Mr. high and mighty is about to leave a man in need, what happened to justice?_

It's times like this I wish that the Walrider was actually solid enough to take a swing at.

"Get out!" the mugger yelled again.

"Ok, look," I spoke in spite of myself "I don't want to get in a fight, I don't think you do either" I didn't have time for this, and I sure as hell didn't have the patience.

Just as the mugger opened his mouth to speak, the man on the wall choked out a word:

"H-h-help."

While the mugger was distracted by the man's struggle I took a step forward, only to have the criminal strike out. Knife in hand, he swung wildly. Moving to block I raised an arm. The blade hit home and left a deep gash in my forearm. I recoiled. The look on the mugger's face said he surprised himself.

Not that I cared.

Though it caught me off guard, the fact of the wound on my arm didn't take long to sink in. On autopilot I took another step forward, the mugger started slashing wildly, yelling something unintelligible. I just held my arm up to catch the blows. Half a dozen steps and as many wounds later I'd backed the thief into a wall.

"You know, I didn't want to start my day like this" I said, only for there to be no reply from any of the men in the alley, "so why don't you just leave, give back whatever you stole, and I'll forget that you tried to turn my arm into hamburger meat"

I held up my ribboned arm to emphasize my point. Not a drop of blood flowed from it, thanks to the Walrider. Apparently the effect was enough to unhinge the criminal.

"Fuck that!" he screamed right before driving the pocket knife into my arm deep enough for the blade to get stuck.

Recoiling from the pain, I had just enough time to swing my other fist at the man. My hand made contact with his left temple, his grip on the knife loosened, and he fell unconscious to the ground.

After I made sure he wasn't getting back up any time soon the full pain of a stab wound to the forearm hit me.

"Ah, son of a bitch!"

 _Sounds like somebody could use my help._

 **Cut the crap.**

 _Only if you ask nicely._

"Oh my god, are you ok?" The man who I'd helped ran up to me without a second glance to his attacker on the ground.

"Ya, I feel just wonderful" I told him through gritted teeth.

 _I'm still waiting on the polite request._

"I know first aid, I can help, let me see the wound. Wait no, put pressure on it. Holy crap I need to call an ambulance!" the guy started working himself into a panic.

 **Fine. Be like that. Would you ever so kindly stop me from feeling enough pain in my arm to knock a grown man out cold.**

 _I don't know…_

"My phone's out of battery. We need a phone. And the police, I just got mugged! You're dieing!"

 **I'm done playing, just fix the pain.**

 _You're no fun._

As the blinding pain faded, the man continued to babble on.

"ok, whatever you do, don't take the knife out. or should you move it? I don't remember…"

"Calm down"

"What! No, we need a doctor, and the cops, and-and" he was panting at this point

"It's fine" I mumbled to myself while prying the knife from my arm.

"Oh my god! Don't do that! Holy hell, stop! stop!"

By the time he stopped yelling at me I'd already pulled out the bloody weapon and tossed it to the ground. Looking back up I found the guy hyperventilating and leaning against the brick wall.

 _Aren't you so happy you took the time to play the hero? It's paying off so well._

I looked back at the sad pile of person.

 _If we slowly murdered the mugger in front of him I wonder if he would have a mental break down._

 **Save it for Murkoff.**

Brushing off the Walrider's suggestions I walked over to the guy.

"Hey, I'm ok. You're ok, everything's fine" I gave the guy a pat on the shoulder, he didn't respond "...ya, you're fine." I was doing a sparkling job of cheering him up.

After a moment he finally calmed down, well he stopped breathing hard enough to inflate a kiddy pool in less than twenty seconds at least.

"Know what? let's get out of the alley, that's probably a good idea." I tried my best to get him to move.

He didn't say a word, and for a second I thought he might be in shock. Then,

"You're ok?! Oh…. it was only a matter of time until someone got hurt, that guy was insane! And this is the third time this week I've been mugged, you didn't need to help. Are you bleeding? Let me see your arm!"

He grabbed my sliced up arm without pausing to hear my response.

"whoa, wait. It's not bleeding, how is-"

"You've been robbed three times?" I changed the subject while pulling my arm from his hands.

"It's ok, I have a decoy wallet."

I just looked at him for a minute. "You… ok. Well, you have a nice day" I turned to leave. I had gotten half way out of the alley when what's-his name caught up to me.

"But, thanks anyway you know." he took a nervous glance back "shouldn't we call the cops on him?"

"We aren't doing anything" I told him as I continued down the street.

"Oh, ok. I'm Carl, by the way" he held out his hand for a shake.

"Miles" I didn't return the gesture.

Carl began to babble as we walked. Despite the street being empty, he made enough noise to fool anyone into thinking we were in times square.

 _It's not too late to just kill him and walk away_

 **He's just an annoying twenty something, that's not a death sentence.**

 _But he might shriek. Not just scream, but give a really high pitch shriek. Do you have any idea how long it's been since anyone has shrieked in terror?_

Not wanting to even dignify that with a response I tuned back into Carl's babbling.

"...don't want to talk about that, do you? Anyway, what about that thing that's on the news. You know? That thing, with that company? The CEO's on trial in town, things that big never happen around here, it's always in DC or New York, you know?"

I must of been holding my breath, because by the time he stopped talking I found myself needing to breath.

"I know a thing or two about that."

"That's some crazy shit, am I right? Like there was that one guy, with the camera, he worked there. What was his name? Anyway, they're still looking for him."

"Waylon?"

"ya, that's his name. You know they had to have done something to him, right? I mean, after something like that gets out you know that company- Murkoff, that's it- must have been crazy pissed off."

I started to ignore him, I'd heard this conversation play out a couple dozen times, though I hadn't actually been part of one.

Carl droned on about everything that the news outlets had already been saying for months. The first moments after Waylon's death played over again in my mind.

I'd been in the car, driving Connor and Garret away from that place. The last word that had been said was Connor saying that I was "dad's friend". I wasn't sure if he was asking me or reminding himself, either way I answered:

"I sure am."

The half-lie felt bitter coming out of my throat.

"Good" Connor said back to me before curling into a small ball in the back seat.

From the rear-view I could also see Garret huddling against the door, unlike Connor he didn't stare at the floor boards in defeat, but instead looked frantically around and shivered slightly.

"Garret" I said as softly as I could.

He flinched at his name.

"It's ok. We're leaving there."

He didn't say anything back, not that I could blame him. There was no way he was a day past twelve and I was some big scary guy covered in blood and who knew what else. Never mind what had just happened.

I drove for nearly thirty minutes until I realized I had no idea where I should be going. Waylon had obviously been in California, Chealsy was probably there too. Where exactly was anybody's guess. I flipped the radio onto a low volume, a talk show was on. The mindless droning of a talk show always helped me calm down, I hoped that some noise would make the boys a little more comfortable too.

The dull weather forecast preoccupied my time as mountains and desert passed. It was all smooth sailing, until the actual talk show began.

"Now back to what we were saying before the brake. So, Steve, you're involved with a bunch of big business and that sort of thing, what do you think this information about the Murkoff corporation means for the economy?"

That caught my attention.

"Well," a different voice began, probably Steve "Murkoff holds a large sector of the private market in, well, in a lot of areas, and this footage is goi-"

"Footage?" I found myself saying.

Without thinking much I pulled over and stepped on the brake. One of the boys whimpered from the back.

The first voice to have been talking continued on, "Right, and not only that, but it's pretty obvious that there was some absolutely brutal human experimentation going on. And… it looks like our call line is lighting up. We will be playing your messages right here -on Talk 260- in thirty seconds. to leave a message call-"

I didn't listen for the number.

That was the moment I'd learnt that Waylon had done it. He and Chealsy had gotten the film out to the public. We'd won! A small grin started to spread across my face as I pulled back onto the empty desert road. He'd done it!

I took a glance into my rearview and caught sight of Connor and Garret again.

The surge of excitement faltered. This was the biggest story I'd ever had my hands on, not to mention the one that needed to be told the most, but people had died. Good people had died, and two children had lost their parents.

I remember the voice messages being played over the radio. Most were shocked, a few were angry. None of them were shocked or angry enough though.

Just like this Carl guy wasn't interested enough to be able to carry on a conversation about the topic.

While I had drifted out he'd kept talking.

"...the whole thing's kind of crazy, don't you think?"

I didn't look over at him. It took me a second to remind myself that he wouldn't understand half the things I had to say.

"The whole thing is mound of corporate bullshit if you ask me."

There must have been something in my voice, because when Carl replied he did it with the same caution one would use when they were approaching a stray dog.

"Oh, it's not personal to you, is it?"

"You could say that" even I could hear the edge in my voice.

We walked another block before I realized that I was acting like an asshole with something to hide, to make up for it I tried to change the subject, "but hey, who wants to talk about that. Where are you headed to?"

Carl seemed thankful for the change of topic.

"To my grams house, I visit every Tuesday"

"I'm sure she enjoys that"

"ya, sometimes we play bingo on the weekends too."

"Good for you."

I didn't say much else before we parted ways, eventually I had to take a turn where he needed to go strait. After saying goodbye I got to enjoy the quiet for a whole ten seconds before the Walrider started up again.

 _You've managed to make this walk twice as long as it needed to be, I hope you're proud._

 **Actually, I am. It's been a whole month since I at least pretended to be nice.**

All I got in reply was an annoyed buzz.

 **Ok, go and pout. Come back when you want to act like an ancient cosmic force instead of a brat teenager.**

The buzzing got louder.


	3. Looking for Work

AN: Hello once again, and happy Monday (just kidding, there's no such thing as a happy Monday). Anyways I'll _probably_ be changing the rating from T to M on Friday, so heads up. More importantly, thanks for reading and please enjoy the chapter:

The static still hadn't died down by the time I got to my destination.

 **This was funny for the first minute, now it's just ridiculous.**

 _Ridiculous you say._

 **Just cut the funny business. I need to look at least a little bit professional for the next half hour, can you keep it in line for that long?**

The building in front of me was the office of a small and local news paper. With any luck I could go back to freelance journalism and use that to collect information about the CEO. If I got really lucky I might end up in a position to absolutely destroy him. Needless to say I needed this job and wasn't moving until I got a response.

 _Fine, as long as I get my fun in the end._

Knowing that that was as close to as a promise that I was going to get, I opened the door and went into the lobby. It was a small room, there was no receptionist desk, instead it was occupied by a flight of stairs, an elevator, a few chairs, and a directory mounted to the far wall. I walked to the directory, it took me a second but I eventually found the suite number for the papers office.

They were on the third floor. Now knowing where I was going I walked to the elevator. I wasn't but three feet away when the doors drifted apart by themselves.

 **I said no shenanigans.** I gave a mental warning.

 _I'm only being helpful._

I had to work to suppress a grumble as I stepped onto the elevator, which closed and moved to the third floor on it own accord.

No one interrupted the ride, though that was probably due to the Walrider's interfering with the elevator more than anything. That thinking was reinforced when the doors slid open. The room was mad with people. Interns ran back and forth hauling mountains of papers, ninety percent of the deskspace help pillars of files, the remaining ten percent was a sea of coffee mugs. Computer screens flickered on and off and the din of ringing phones nearly drowned out the drone of printers and flood of voices.

It was hectic and messy and disorientating.

I hadn't felt so at home in months.

Without so much as a second thought to all the chaos I stepped forward. I was looking for the editor's office; I'd gotten a foot in the door thanks to a friend of a friend and they were expecting me. About half way through the floor I spotted a back room that had windows set in the wall facing the interior of the building. As I came closer it became clear that there was an engraving on the door that read "editor in chief"

Bingo.

Weaving my way through a forest of desks and papers I eventually came to the door. Just before I knocked to enter I stopped for a second

 **Ok, listen up. When we go in there, I'm going to need to know what to say. I've heard that this guys really particular about who he lets freelance for him, and it'll be even tougher for me because I can't bring anything to the table for him.**

 _What happened to no shenanigans?_

 **Don't get cute. Besides, if I don't get this job you're going to have to wait for who-knows-how-long before anything exciting happens.**

It was after an uncomfortable pause that the walrider replied _fine_ in a way that made me sure I was going to regret it later.

Taking a deep breath I knocked on the door. A short second later a call came from inside to enter. As I took a step inward I noticed a few things. One, it was unexpectedly dim in here. Two, the walrider was no longer with me, it had gone looking for information, where exactly it found it still wasn't clear. I didn't know if it actually read people's minds or just did a really good job of sherlock-ing information out of its surroundings. Three, the editor and chief wasn't at his desk.

Instead a younger looking woman sat behind the heavy dark wood.

Apparently I had hesitated too long before saying anything because she spoke first "You got something to say, or are you just wasting my time?"

Needless to say I'd been caught very off guard "uh...I'm looking for Mr. Harding"

She gave me a very unimpressed stare "...and?"

 _That's Trisha Harding._

"...and you're his daughter, obviously."

She did not look impressed.

"Ok, I'm going to cut to the chase here." I tried to shake of my surprise "I had an interview, for right now, right here. Today."

"Right," she stood up from behind the desk then continued on "here's how this is going to go. You're going to walk out of this room. You're going to knock. I'll ask you in, again. Then you're going to introduce yourself like someone who knows what manners are. After that I'm going to let you know you didn't get whatever kind of work you came in here looking for and you're going to leave. Understand?"

 _Wow, that was fast._

I felt the walrider come back to me more than anything.

 _We should just leave and then go destroy the CEO and the court house. You know, for stress relief._

Between the unexpected response and the Walrider it took a minute for any words to make their way to my mouth.

"Now wait just one fucking second." fortunately for me they were the most polite and well considered words I could've imagined.

My response surprised her enough to make a solitary eyebrow arch.

"I didn't come all the way out here to have someone shoot me down the minute I walked in"

 _I don't think she wants to listen. Too bad, let's go._

 **You get back out there. We're staying.**

There was a distinct angry grumbling before I felt a lack of the Walriders presence.

"Ok, mister" Trisha was talking again, she had an emphasis on the word mister that made me think she wanted to throw acid in my face "I don't like it when people come in here telling me how to do my job. And I'm not about to take that from some nobody who stumbled through my door. So give me one good reason why I shouldn't get the three biggest guys in the next room to haul your ass down stairs and toss you out in the snow."

 _She doesnt like being told what to do or think._

 **No shit sherlock.**

"because…"

she crossed her arms and scowled. I didn't want to keep her waiting

 **You got anything?**

 _This is her father's business, he's in the hospital. She wants to prove that she can run this place herself._

"Because I could be useful."

She had a look that seemed to say "go on…"

"I'm experienced, so you don't have to waste time teaching me the ropes. I'm not asking for much in the way of pay, and…"

"and this all sounds like a very boring, very poorly thought out pitch." she sat back in her seat "you can see yourself out."

"no" I stood in place.

"Come again?"

"No, I'm not moving" I wasn't above acting like an insubordinate teenager, more than anything I just needed to stall until the Walrider could dig up something useful.

Just before Trisha had the time to make another threat the office door swung open.

"Hey Trish, I'm about to head out. There any specific shots you want me to get or-" he realized that I was standing in the room and that his boss looked like she was about to set someone on fire out of sheer force of will, "who's this?"

"Nobody" she answered without braking the death glare she had on me.

"Hi, I'm Miles" I held out my hand in greeting, completely ignoring Trisha.

The guy was obviously confused but shook my hand. "There anything I need to know about?" He asked Trisha while avoiding me.

She glanced at him "not now Frank." then she looked back at me "he was just leaving"

"Was I?" The snarking just kind of slipped out.

 _We probably should leave. This place is a waste of time._

 **It wouldn't be if you made yourself useful.**

…

"That's it, go get Hank and Barry. Get this guy out of here" Trisha had apparently had enough.

It looked like I was on my own, "If you toss me out of here, I'll just go to the Chicago Daily"

"And why would I give a damn if you do that?"

It was obvious that she hated me, it seemed bad enough that even if I could bring something big to the table she might still tell me to take a hike. But, if I convinced her that I would help out her competition she might take me on just to spite them.

"you should care because I can get you a direct line to Chealsy Ryan"

She arched an eyebrow, "you're bullshitting me"

"Hand me a phone and I can get her on the line, right now, no questions asked."

Chealsy had become something of a figurehead for the footage, she was finally getting all the attention she had wanted and an interview from her was something a lot of reporters would kill for.

Trisha stood stock still, I was pretty sure she still thought I was desperately grasping at straws, which I kind of was.

Frank was the first one to break the silence "no lie, eh? Hey Trish, maybe we should hand him a phone, just to see whether or not he's legit."

She still glared daggers at me, and after what seemed like forever she finally handed me the phone that sat on the corner of her desk.

"You get one chance or you're out the door"

"naturally" I mumbled as I typed in the number to Chealsy's cell.

Holding the old phone to my ear I waited for her to pick up. An awkward silence grew and I started to worry that she wasn't going to pick up. After five rings she finally answered.

"It's early" from the sound of her voice she was ninety percent asleep.

"well wake up," that drew some weird looks from Frank and Trisha "I need you to talk to someone for a second."

"wait a minute, who the hell are you?" she was starting to wake up.

"It's Miles, who else would be calling at odd hours of the day from a random number?"

"ah, I thought that sounded like you Mr. Upshur. What do you want? It's six in the morning and I need my beauty sleep."

I probably should have accounted for the time difference between Chicago and L.A. before calling, but this was important "oh, not much, remember how you got Christoff to convince Mario to tell Wilson to set up a meeting with that paper in Chicago?"

"...yes" Chealsy had that tone in her voice that told me I was about to get an angry talking to

"well, I might of made an ass of myself."

My comment drew a short laugh from Frank.

Chealsy gave a heavy sigh from the other end of the line "what do you want me to do about it?"

"Not much, just talk to the person I'm about to hand the phone to, her name is Trisha and she runs the paper"

"Did you volunteer me for something I didn't know about, you know I hate it when people-"

"ok sounds great, here she is" I stopped listening and quickly handed to phone to Trisha across the desk.

Within a second of getting the phone Trisha had pulled out a note pad and pen, before she spoke she pointed at me and then the door.

"I think that's our cue to wait outside" Frank told me form my side.

Without comment I followed him back into the main room. As I walked out of the room the Walrider started back up again:

 _You're really set on wasting our time with this paper._

I didn't get the time to think of a response before Frank spoke up.

"So how'd you end up with Chealsy Ryan's phone number?"

"oh, you know. She's something of an old friend" as I spoke I took quick stock of how Frank looked, medium-large build, about my height. He could have been a football player back in high school.

"You say that like everyone knows somebody who's at the front of national news"

"Trust me kid, stick around in journalism long enough and you'll realize that everyone does"

A bit of an awkward silence settled between us, the Walrider took the opportunity to speak up, again.

 _There's no reason to be here._

 **I already told you, I want to collect information on the CEO before we go in guns blazing, is that so hard to wrap your head around?**

 _No, I just don't believe that that's your only reason._

 **Come off it already.**

 _No. This is a waste of time and you know it._

 **I wouldn't have to be talking people into helping me out of you would just do what I ask**

 _I'm not a dog meant to go out and fetch on your command_

 **Obviously, you're much too stubborn to be as useful as a dog.**

 _Don't worry, I learnt to be stubborn from you._

 **I'm flattered.**

"Hello? Anyone home?"

"What?" I looked up to realize that Frank was looking at me with a question in his eyes.

"You blanked out there for a second"

"Sorry about that, I was just caught up thinking"

"Ok, I was afraid I'd asked a personal question or something"

"No, why? What was it?"

"I just couldn't help but notice that your sleeve is ripped to shreds."

I'd nearly forgotten about the mugging from earlier, "Oh, right. Funny story about that actually…"

"and that would be?"

I needed to come up with something, fast. Just as I opened my mouth to say some nonsense excuse the door to Trisha's office opened back up.

"Ok, you're in" She told my without a hint of humor.

"It take it Chealsy gave me a sparkling recommendation" I might have laid the sass on a bit thick.

"Well, she did say that you were a stubborn asshole, childish, and pathologically incapable of common sense"

 _Charming._

"But she said you weren't completely useless, so you've got the job."

"...I'll have to send her a fruit basket as a thank you."

A cell phone began to buzz "I'd send her more than that if I were you" Trisha warned, just before answering her phone.

Frank started up talking again, "Well, if you're not the luckiest bastard I've ever met, I don't know who is."

"Oh if you only knew."

"So, from one reporter to another, how'd you get Ryans phone number?"

I looked at him "from one reporter to another, it pays to keep your sources confidential."

That drew a look from Frank that seemed to say 'oh, you're going to be that kind of guy'

"but" I continued "if you have to know, me and Chealsy go way back. I first met her back in the 90s"

 _1993._

"'93 to be exact."

"So you could say she's an old friend?"

"Something like that"

Just as Frank was about to open his mouth to ask another question Trisha came back into the conversation, phone neatly tucked away and out of sight.

"There's a press conference in half an hour at the county court house, Frank you're taking Miles, go get your things. Miles, come with me; we need to get you a temporary press pass"

Before Trisha had the time to walk away Frank spoke up "Don't stick me on new guy duty. This is important, shouldn't you send Veronica or Shane, they've covered conferences before."

Trisha didn't talk back, instead opting to send a glare that demanded she not be questioned.

Frank got the message, muttered a half-assed apology, and walked away.

That left me with Trisha.

"Walk with me" she said before moving without looking to see if I was following.

I did follow, actually I had to jog a couple of steps to catch up.

"The press conference is about the Murkoff trials."

Suddenly I felt the Walrider front and center in my mind

"That's a big thing to put a new guy on."

I was happy about the assignment, but I'd learned to be extremely wary when things seemed to be going smoothly.

"It is, but Ms. Ryan said you knew a thing or two about the situation."

"What exactly did she say?"

Trisha lead me through a door and into a smaller office "if you start asking questions like that I'll think you have something to hide."

The comment reminded me that I needed to play nice when I was talking to people, something I'd forgotten how to do during the past months.

I tried to play it off, "I'm a reporter, asking questions is how I pay the rent."

The sad attempt at lightening the mood was not lost on Trisha, who stood over a computer.

"How do you spell your name?"

I told her

"Ms. Ryan didn't go into detail. Besides, I prefer to get my information straight from the source."

A plastic press pass slid out of the large printing device that occupied a corner of the room.

As Trisha picked it up to hand it to me she hesitated "so, what makes the Murkoff case so personal?"

The Walrider's presence had been getting harder to ignore since we'd been in the hall. Memories of my weeks on the run with Waylon flashed in my mind, the sight of that damned lab they had me locked up in is where my thoughts crashed to a stop "long story short? I knew somebody that Murkoff didn't mind killing."

She handed me the pass "I don't think you're telling me everything."

Before I had the chance to respond she left the room.

 _We're killing the CEO today_.

I didn't respond. I walked into the hall.

 _The second we see him, we kill him._

I leaned up against the wall. I didn't talk back.


	4. A Good Listener

AN: Hello again everyone, hope the week's treating you well. Anyhow this will be the last chapter with a T rating, on Friday I'll be changing it to M, just fyi. Also, don't be afraid to leave a review, I take them into consideration when writing new chapters. Also, also HOLY CRAP, Oultast 2 is being released April 25th and I could not be more hyped!

*Ahem* anyways, the chapter:

After hearing the news my drive through the desert had been completely silent. I could only focus on the fact that Waylon had done it, he'd gotten the video out! He'd died.

I tried to give myself second to think things over.

 _That's what you wanted to do. You've taken Murkoffs good name, now we should take their lives._

I would have given the Walrider a smart ass reply, but I'd been distracted by a noise coming from the back seat. What sounded like something halfway between a gasp and a whimper caused me to glance into the rearview. Garret still sat shivering against the door but Connor sat ramrod straight, staring at me though the mirror with his eyes the size of dinner plates.

"are you ok?" I tried to ask Connor without sounding worried. There was something very wrong with the way he was sitting so still. I wanted to believe that Murkoff wouldn't have tortured children like they would anybody else. I wanted to think that they could at least pretend to have a shred of humanity. But I knew better.

Connor never responded, instead opting to sit in silence. Though the drive had been quiet since I switched off the radio, it now felt like the very concept of sound was just an urban legend. I couldn't hear the hum of the engine over the silence, even the Walrider failed to make a noise. I remember it being so odd, the thing never seems to shut up.

The suffocating quite was still thick by the time I hit the coastline. There was a sign at the junction, I hadn't seen any road traffic, but there was apparently a town fifteen miles to the north. With nothing better to do I went in that direction. I knew I'd have to find Chealsy, sooner rather than later.

Feeling bad I tried to start another conversation, "are you two hungry?" I said into the rearview.

That drew nothing other than a small cough from Garrett, it'd been an hour later and Connor was still sitting ramrod straight.

"umm, ok. Tell me if you need anything" there was no denying that I'm the best conversationalist on the planet.

 _Ah yes, you're an attentive listener._

The Walrider's words brought my attention away from my memories.

 **I'm a better listener than you that's for sure.**

 _Sure you are._

"Hey! Earth to Miles."

I'd nearly forgotten where I was, what with being so focused on my own thoughts. Frank sat in the drivers set, I was riding shotgun. The both of us were on our way to the press conference at the courthouse. Telling by the face Frank was wearing I'd missed something important.

"Houston, this is Miles, I can hear you loud and clear." I fired back at him without much thought.

"Ha ha, very funny. But seriously, this is important."

We had pulled into a parking lot a block or so from the courthouse.

"I know" I replied simply.

"I don't think you do. I've never questioned Trish, she always makes the right call, but I'm going to be honest. I don't think you should be here."

"If you keep talking like that I'll start thinking that you don't like me" I faked a wounded tone.

"I'm not joking. This is a huge job. I don't think you should be here."

I dropped the playful act "allright, I get it. I'm just a guy who showed up and you don't like me."

"Exactly, that's why you're going to be manning the camera while I ask the questions."

A small chuckle slipped its way out "so you're going after the glory then?" he was starting to remind me of Chealsy.

As he started to get out of the car Frank said "something like like that"

I didn't give the response much thought as I got out of the car and hurried to match Frank in his walk to our destination. In the car he'd handed me a camera. It was a bit beefier than the one I was used to using. I had to stop myself from grinning at the sense of deja vu. It was just me, a camera, and a pile of bullshit to expose.

 _And a CEO to murder._

I didn't reply.

Without a word we rounded a corner, the courthouse came into full view. There was already a crowd of reporters and a small fleet of vans in the area. I was there for a small paper with a radio talk show, not Fox or ABC, there was no way I'd be able to get a clear recording of anything worthwhile.

Not without a little help anyway.

As Frank and I walked onto the lawn he said

"It looks like we're going to have to work with what we've got. That camera has a really good zoom, so-"

I cut him off "we can get closer."

He looked at me like I'd grown a third head "are you kidding me, that's a solid wall of people, we're not getting any closer"

I ignored the words "just follow me"

In the past months I'd learned a few tricks.

 **Do me a quick favor…**

 _No._

I swallowed my annoyance **Let me rephrase that. See the microphones?**

 _Yes._

 **Go ahead and short some of those out.**

 _Why?_

 **You know why, now stop being so difficult.**

 _I'm not your play toy._

 **So I've been told.**

Despite the whining a tiny amount of the swarm slid through my pores. If you didn't know what to look for you'd never see it. Luckily I did. Tiny particles made their way into the microphones and cameras of the the crews in front of me. As the people noticed their equipment malfunctioning they began to peel away from the group, leaving a nice little pathway for me and Frank to walk down.

"Come on" I walked through the crowd and towards the podium.

Frank suppressed a surprised noise but followed me regardless.

Nothing was expected for another fifteen minutes so Frank took the liberty of telling me what to do and where to stand for five of those until I said something

"...no, move a little to the left"

"Alright Frank, I know you mean well, but I've been doing this since Clinton slept with Monica. I can hold a camera."

I earned myself an acidic response "well, if you would stand still, I wouldn't have to get on your case about it."

 _He's annoying. We should kill him too._

 **No. He means well, he only sounds like an asshole.**

 _I don't care._

"Hey! Are you shaking your hand on purpose?"

I was brought back to the conversation at hand. "my arm's not shaking"

"I can see it, yes it is."

It wasn't. "if you saw any of my old work, you'd know my footage is never shaky."

 _I'm serious, we could just storm the building right now. Start with Frank, cause a distraction and kill everyone inside._

The Walrider had begun to get itself worked up.

"and stand with a wider base, also- oh hey shut up, the DA's coming outside"

 _This is the perfect opportunity to start._

I wasn't going to start a rampage in the middle of Chicago.

An uneasy silence settled across the courtyard as the district attorney began to speak and every reporter in the city listened intently "It has been determined that the horrible tragedies that occurred at the Mount Massive asylum were the actions of a few individuals" the man behind the podium stopped, as if he had to force himself to say the words that came next. "in light of the information we now have, a deal has been made..."

 _Your 'justice' isn't going to happen._ My blood was starting to boil.

"...we will not be persecuting the executive members of the Murkoff Corporation-"

the field burst into a roar of questions.

 _There's no more time to gather information, there's no more hope of breaking Murkoff unless we do it with our bear hands._

 **We do this on my terms!** I had to hear what else the man had to say

The DA held up his hand for silence "-but the company has agreed to pay punitive damages and provide all the documentation surrounding the events that…"

All the government was asking for was money and more ghosts to chase. Suddenly I didn't need to hear what else he had to say.

Quite gripped the yard, with only the attorneys voice to be heard. I didn't hear even that. Instead static raged.

 _You we're more than ready to kill the CEO this morning why aren't you doing anything now!_

I fought the urge to run into the building and hunt down anyone who even looked like hey might have had something to do with murkoff.

 **We don't even know if he's inside.** That was a lie

 _We both know he is!_

I wanted to run in.

I stopped myself

 _Stop with your excuses. Move!_

 **No.**

I took a step forward.

 _I'm not your play toy and I've listened long enough. Now it's time to have some fun._

My eyes darted around the yard, nobody noticed little old me having an intense mental battle, they were all too distracted with their questions. There were police lining the entrance to the courthouse.

 _I will not tolerate your false moral crusade anymore. Just admit that this is about revenge, and move!_

I had to brace against moving my own legs

 **There are too many innocent people here.**

 _Ignore them, you know killing one of your targets is worth a flattening a city block._

 **-!**

I'd hesitated for an instant too long.

For a second the voices of the press died in the roar of static. Then the screaming started. A sickeningly familiar fog coated the yard, I couldn't see three damn feet in front of me. Then I stood in the foyer of the court house. The dark came swarming in after me, a man slipped around the corner. Without thinking my legs carried me to him, static rang in my ears once more.

I'd found the bastard. The hunt was on.


	5. Nothing Personal

AN: Hello once again, here's another chapter for your reading pleasure, please enjoy (and maybe leave a review if you want (please?)). Oh, also you could probably guess from the fact that I bumped the rating up, but there is some gore in this chapter. You have been warned.

**5**

Elegant court halls gave way to the swarm. There might have been half a second between my seeing the CEO run down a corridor and moving. Racing down the more narrow side hall I didn't bother to rethink my actions. The bastard that had allowed Mount Massive to happen was within my reach, that's all I needed to know.

Doors slammed out of panic. I had no interest in anybody else here but the Walrider would be gunning for anything it could touch.

Each time I tried to reach out to it to find some direction I only met a roar of static. Running through the cloud just as blind as anyone else would be, I slowed my pace. As I stopped the voice rang in my head.

 _Don't just stand there, don't ruin everything we've worked for!_

"I don't know where the hell I'm going!"

I had to yell above the raging noise.

Somehow the world around me got even louder, the haze even darker. If I didn't know any better I'd say that time had stopped. Suddenly I knew everything. Where every particle of the swarm lay, the layout of the hall, every detail right down to the words printed on each and every paper that lie in view of a single speck of swarm.

The weight of too much information sent me to my knees.

The sight of a single man running down the hall in a panic launched me back to my feet.

There, about twenty feet from a dead end was the man. He took a terrified, wild eyed look into the monster his company had created, then threw himself into a small room to the side. On my feet and back after the man I flew down the hall, it was at the second door from a dead end that I changed my direction. Without stopping or hesitation I ran through the door. Thick wood gave way like wet tissue paper underneath me and the swarm. I landed in the room upright, the man stood, back to the the farthest wall. I could nearly hear his heart beating out of is chest in fear.

With all the will power in the world, I reigned the swarm in; I wanted to do this with my own hands.

"s-s-stay back" he huffed out the words

"I take it you don't like it when your past catches up with you, do you?"

The guy was probably scared enough to piss his pants at this point, but a flash of confusion showed though the fear painted over his face.

 _Stop toying with him, just kill him now!_

 **No! I want him to know what he's done.**

I continued on despite the Walrider's trying to lunge at the man "you know, given all the shit you've caused I wouldn't be surprised if you forgot about Mount Massive."

That registered on him "Mount massive... " I could see the gears turning "wha- but the Walrider project was a failure!"

The swarm was on the verge of bursting out of my control, gray tendrils whipped forward and back "obviously not."

Before he said another word I lunged forward, swinging my fist. My knuckles popped as I made contact with the man's jaw. Under my hand I felt his bones giving way and muscle being bruised. The rage I felt in that moment washed the swarm away, I wanted to beat the son of a bitch on my own; the Walrider left me once again, it was just in this 'for the fun of it', I was in it for revenge.

Roberts went down to the ground, I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, slammed him against the window and repeated until the glass spider-webbed and threatened to shatter. On the edge of my consciousness I knew that the Walrider commanded the swarm in the hall, that the whole building had gone to hell, but in that moment it didn't matter.

The CEO slumped to the ground once more. I kicked him square in the gut then dragged him back to standing. Blood poured from a gash in the back of his head, his face was mostly unscathed. I had to fix that.

I took a second longer than I should have between beatings and he got a word out.

"why…?" sticky red spit and a broken tooth came out with the word.

The piece of shit knew why! "you killed to many people, too many lives!"

I let him huff out a couple of strained breaths, I wanted to hear what his excuse was.

"It was nothing personal…"

Fuck this guy.

With all the force I could muster without the swarms help I sent him face first into a heavy oak desk. Between meaty slaps of his head on table it seemed like he was trying to reach for a placard on the desk to fight back with so I snapped his arm at the elbow. With a gleaming white bone piercing through his arm and thread like slivers of muscle and sinew clinging to his skin I sent him flying to the window once more. This time when I looked down at him there was exposed muscle throbbing and blood dripping from his chin.

I punched him, his limp head smashed through the battered glass window. I swung again at him from the left, under my heavy hand his jaw popped from its place. His swelling face twisted and sagged under the weight of the dangling bone. My right hand landed a blow to his stomach. The CEOs crumbling body lurched upward, a sticky red spray carrying the scent of bile escaped his distorted lips.

His skin had turned a deep purple under the assault. I relented for a second to wrap a hand around his bile-slickened neck. My grasp tightened until the distorted pleading for mercy drowned in a crushed throat filled with saliva and stomach acid. The gasping and gurgling that had been frantic a second ago slowly drained away through my fingers. One of his eyes had swollen shut, the other bulged and threatened to pop from its socket.

I expected myself to be yelling, but when I spoke my words came out in a maddened whisper that reminded me too much of the broken men at the asylum "it's personal now"

I pulled him forward again, ready to throw him into another piece of furniture. As I began to swing into motion a roar filled the room and pain blossomed into my shoulder. I dropped the CEO but continued my turn. Without the Walrider or the swarm, blood ran down my arm and dripped from my hand. Standing in the doorway was a cop. Maybe young, maybe new to his job, I didn't care.

"Get on the ground!" he yelled with his gun still in hand.

I didn't move, I must have looked like a madman.

"On the ground!" he repeated himself.

I didn't move, I could feel the Walrider returning from its massacre in the courthouse. The sound of the swarm drawing near wasn't lost on anybody in the room, for a fraction of a second the cop stood still, then burst into motion to enter the room and escape the hall. I didn't make a move, instead opting to let the swarm hit me full force. As the black cloud flooded into the room, there was no way of hearing the screaming that must have been ringing the the air. In a flash the screeching died down, the blood stopped running from my wound and I swung around to face the CEO for the last time.

When I stopped I found the bastard half hanging from the window trying to make his escape. On reflex I reached out to grab him. Lines of the swarm burst out of my hand and wrapped around the CEO's own. He tumbled back, the majority of his weight out of the window; I felt the beads of the swarm digging into the muscle and bone of his wrist. More of the cloud flowed out, it moved too fast. As my hold on his wrist became tighter, the connection from his arm to hand became less stable. The flesh of his wrist was being eaten away by the swarm.

 **Slow down!**

There was no reply of words, just waves of anger and force.

Something else made contact with my shoulder, another bullet. I made a final tug to bring the CEO back inside. His arm gave, there was a scream and a thud out of the window. The remaining bones of his hand turned to powder in my own.

In a flurry of frustration I swatted at the cop with a wall of nanobots. He flew into the hall like a rag-doll and landed with a thud, I don't think he was dead, but he didn't move after that. Looking out the window I was just in time to see the CEO being dragged off by some other police officers and civilians who thought they were being good samaritans.

I screamed out of pure frustration. It was something primal that even the Walrider joined in on. The muscle of my throat was rubbed raw, the walls shook and lights popped, even the electrical outlets began to fizzle and smoke. I charged out into the hall, more police and who knows what other kind of law enforcement would be getting here soon.

The CEO was gone, out of my reach, and some primal part of my brain knew that I had to make my escape.

 _Don't stop now! Find him, we're so close!_

I didn't respond. I ran, every bone in my body urged me to smash in every door I passed and to level the building. To chase down the man I'd been after and rip the city apart. But I didn't. I ran. I ran and I plotted on what to do next.


	6. Am I Forgetting Something?

AN: Looks like Monday is upon us once again guys, hope this chapter makes it a little better. Anyhow, hope ya'll enjoy, and feel free to leave a review.

**6**

I'd taken off my blood soaked jacket and buried it in the snow. The cold was one of the only things that still got to me, so I might have been shivering like the last leaf on an oak tree.

 _Serves you right for being such a weak coward._

The Walrider had been like this since we'd left the courthouse half an hour ago.

 **Get off my damn back, the only reason he got away was because you took his hand off.**

 _If I hadn't come back you would have been dead. You think you can handle yourself, but don't forget that you're nothing without me._

 **I was handling everything just fine, in case you didn't notice I was getting the job done and giving that slimy son of a bitch half the beating he deserved. If you hadn't shown up I'd have-**

 _Done What! Gotten shot by some lowly police officer and died?_

 **If you're so damned worried about having my breathing body to come back to then you should probably do a better job protecting it.**

 _You idiot! You sent me away._

 **And you actually went. We both know that you didn't have to go if you didn't want to. Don't blame me when you just wanted to run off and be reckless.**

 _You're doing that thing where you tell me to stop doing the things you're guilty of._

 **Stop avoiding the conversation.**

 _There you go again. It's always my fault, isn't it?_

This shit was getting old **You don't have to be here. Go one, leave. Go find some other person to ride around on, I'm sure there's more than a few crazy bastards out there that wouldn't mind going on a killing spree.**

 _You know that would require killing you._

 **Exactly and I know that you wouldn't, so shut up and help me take down Murkoff. My way.**

 _You are a blind fool._

For a second I thought I had won the conversation, then the feeling returned to my shoulder and back where to where I'd been shot. The wounds had mostly healed and weren't in danger of bleeding out, but they were still sore and throbbed every time I moved.

Sometimes the Walrider was a whiny little bitch.

Stumbling through the cold and the nagging pain I considered my options.

There was probably a huge police presence at the courthouse, the CEO was more than likely in a hospital. I'd have to find out which one before I could finish the job. It was more than likely that Trisha and her company would know where to find him. But it seemed like a bad idea to go back there, I had no way of knowing what exactly Frank had seen. For all I knew he could be a gibbering wreck who was shouting what exactly happened to everyone who would listen, or he could be a stain in the snow. I didn't have a cell to call anyone with, and a cab was out of the question given the way I looked.

Mulling over what information I had, I walked back to the motel I'd been staying at. There was probably something important I'd missed at the courthouse, the DA had said that Murkoff agreed to hand over some sensitive documents. Anything there was probably a printed lie, but there could have been something useful.

The Walrider wasn't about to help me remember what I'd seen and I wasn't about to ask. Thinking as hard as I could I shuffled through all the papers I'd seen while looking through the swarms eyes. Most were irrelevant agreements, miscellaneous case work, a couple of contracts, even one that was labeled as a Project Walrider case report. Something nagged at me, but I couldn't remember what. There hadn't been anything damning in the room where I beat the CEO, it was just a clerk's office.

What was it then? I knew I was forgetting something.

While buried deep in my thoughts I came to the motel. It was a cheap place, I walked through the deserted parking lot while fishing the keys from my pants pocket. I let myself into the room and sat down, there was a growing sense that I was forgetting something.

Trying my best to remember, I undressed myself carefully, avoiding the wounds on my shoulder and got into the shower.

The warm water served to thaw out my cold limbs, and as better as that made me feel I still didn't know what I was trying to think of. Quickly, I got done rinsing off and dressed myself in clean cloths from the duffel bag that held all of my belongings. I plopped onto the bed and tried to focus.

 _This is pathetic._

I sighed in annoyance **I take it you're done pouting now?**

 _Not even close._

I closed my eyes just to avoid having to look at my surroundings **What do you want then?**

 _For you to stop moping and do something._

 **I'm not moping, there was something important at the courthouse and I don't remember what it was.**

 _Did it have to do with where the CEO was going?_

 **No, but-**

 _Then it doesn't matter._

If the Walrider had a solid form I would have punched right in it's sarcastic mouth **You can help me figure out what it was.**

 _I can, but no._

 **Don't be such a little shit.**

There was no reply and I couldn't help but feel like the Walrider was blocking whatever it was I was trying to think of.

I had no leads now, but the time was right for me to find some; it was nearly five in the afternoon. The local news would be coming on.

The cheap tv in the motel didn't get much aside from basic cable, but that was enough. Flipping on the tv I went to channel twelve, the opening sequence of the five o'clock news was flashing on the screen. I had to sit through the opening, but today's incident was the first thing they talked about.

"There was an attack on the county courthouse today, whether or not this was related to the Murkoff Corp. proceedings is as of yet unknown. Eyewitnesses report a dense black fog covering the area immediately before the incident." the anchorman told the report with a controlled lack of enthusiasm "as of now there are at least ten dead there, and dozens of wounded. Among the is Murkoffs CEO, Nelson Roberts, who is in critical condition…"

They didn't mention the name of the hospital, or the names of anyone else who was wounded, but that was beside the point. I watched the rest of the broadcast, though nothing useful came of it. I was starting to get twitchy being cooped up in the motel room, so I walked back outside. Maybe if I went back to the courthouse I could find something useful?

I must have taken a very round about way to get back to the motel because the courthouse was only twenty minutes away if you moved at a steady pace. Despite the time that had passed I could see that the snow in the courtyard was stained a worrying shade of pink, and that more than a few windows had been blown out of the building. Getting closer the exact number of officers in the area became more apparent. At least a dozen uniformed men were in the yard, with more shuffling in and out of the building. I walked nonchalantly down a side street and around to the other side of the building.

There was still a police presence here, but not nearly to the same caliber as the front of the building. I watched as two cops started to chat with each other, I took their being distracted as my chance to slip up to a back door. I lucked out when I found that it was unlocked, as silently as I could I ducked inside.

The hall wasn't as big as the main entry, but it was just as finely decorated, given that the area probably saw heavy foot traffic. There were still plain clothed people inside, most of whom looked shell shocked or worryingly emotionless.

 **See what you did** I was pissed that the Walrider had gone off and started killing the people throughout the building without regard.

 _See what you let me do?_

I actually was more than a little angry at myself for letting the Walrider go nuts, but there was no way in hell I was about to admit it.

Walking through the hall I made my way to the front of the building. The halls became wider, and more disheveled. a chandelier hung over the main foyer, loose strands hung from it here and there, most of the lights had burst, and it hung crookedly from a tiny string that was all there was left to support it. The rest of the building was in an equally rough state. Trying to look like I belonged I made my way to a group of people standing near the hall I had chased the CEO down. As I got there everyone was silent. The vacancy on their faces churned my stomach and reminded me of the inmates at Mount Massive.

While I was waiting for the cops to thin out a bit so I could move further in without being seen, a noticeably loud conversation sprung up from two officers.

"I don't care how hard your bell got range, we need to find the son of bitch that did this" an officer with a sargents marking on his uniform was giving a tongue lashing to a beat cop with no apparent status.

"Sergeant Murphy, I know I got a look at him, but I got knocked out cold. There's no way I could ID the guy anyway."

"Don't give me that crap Sanchez, go find something useful."

It was obvious that the young cop had more, less than kind, words. But he let the conversation idle anyways. As he walked away from the sergeant I got a better look. From the words I assumed it was the cop I'd thrown into a wall, looking at him confirmed it.

Unfortunately for me I took a second too long to look at him because he caught sight of me. Despite his just saying he wouldn't recognize me there was a look on his face.

I took the hint and made my way out of his line of sight.

Moving down the hall a bit quicker than was necessary I heard his footsteps behind me. I was back at the room from earlier when he caught up to me.

I stepped over the threshold and had just enough time to turn around to see him with his hand on his gun and standing in the doorway.


	7. Making Friends

AN: Hope y'all enjoy this chapter. On a side note, has the pacing been a bit off? I feel like things are moving kind of slow in here, but maybe that's just me. Anyhow, here you go and I'm sorry in advanced for the kind-of cliff hanger.

**7**

"Whoa there cowboy. Holster your weapon" I held up my hands as a non-threat.

"I haven't drawn my gun yet" he was unamused.

"uhh, right" I dropped my hands "that's a bit odd, considering what happened last time." I tried to play off the conversation as if it were happening anywhere else other than a wrecked crime scene.

"About that, what exactly happened last time?" He tried to play into the fake casual, though he hadn't moved his hand from his gun.

"Nothing much, just business as usual."

"That didn't seem very usual to me."

He seemed a shade too calm for what had happened to him only an hour ago "speaking of unusual, you haven't called for any back up. Or help."

"There's no reason for that, we're just having a conversation" he moved his hand away from his holster as if to pretend that this actually was a light hearted conversation.

"Jeez, are you training to become a hostage negotiator or what?"

"Or what" he replied deadpan.

"Ha, you're hilarious" I joked back with no humor.

"But really, what are you doing here?" he brought us back to a more serious topic.

"Just looking for something"

"Or someone, it seems like you had a bone to pick with Murkoffs CEO."

"You got me there" I shrugged like he had made an unimportant point, like what you would do to someone who commented that wood was brown, or the sky was blue.

"If you do find him, I take it you're planning on killing him."

"Well, you did kind of stop me short. I would hate to leave him hanging like that"

"Generally I'm not supposed let murderers walk."

"I keep hearing that, but the DA did just lest the CEO walk, so…"

The young officer sighed "don't tell me, somebody close to you died in Murkoffs care-"

"Kind of" I interrupted

He gave me a looked that said he didn't like being talked over before continuing "-and now you're out after the guy. Right?"

"You're still only half right. Now that we're on the same page, would you mind telling me which hospital he was sent to?"

He paused, as if to consider his options.

"Ok Sanchez, look. It doesn't matter if you tell me or not because I'll figure it out eventually. This way is just the fastest and easiest."

Hearing his last name knocked him off guard, "how do you.. What's in it for me if I tell you?"

I didn't want to threaten the guy, I had already put a hole in the wall using his head today.

"You don't get anything, but you sure as hell don't lose anything either."

He seemed to be thinking about it.

"If I tell you where he is, how do I know you and your guys won't wreck the hospital like you did the court house."

"My guys..?" that's right, he probably assumed that there was more than just me. I mean, he did get knocked out from behind and the whole building was wrecked when I was only in one room. "uuh, I'll tell them to cool it." that sounded full proof, and not at all like a desperate lie.

Sanchez seemed to know that that didn't sound up to snuff. "If I don't tell you, he'll probably die on his own. You did a number on him. Shattered an arm, sliced an eye open, fractured skull, teeth missing, jaw broken, internal bleeding, punctured lung. A missing hand."

"Sorry but my sympathy is lacking."

I didn't mean for that to be a joke, but the cop started a nervous sort of laughter "This whole time I've just been wondering what the hell you did with his hand."

"Right, that old thing, well..." the Walrider ate it.

"No comment, eh?"

"Sorry, no sell. Now, if you don't mind, where's Roberts? I have unfinished business."

"Sorry guy, I'm not telling you where he is."

"I really didn't want to come in here and start threatening people. So throw me a bone, where is he?"

The little bit of humor in the situation had gone out "You don't have your gang here now, I'm not telling you a damn thing". He made a small movement to pull the handcuffs from his belt.

I huffed out a sigh "I didn't have any help"

"Don't try to bull shit me now,"

"I'm not" life would be so much easier if people would buy into the whole 'I have a nanobot monster living in my head' thing I had to deal with.

"I think this conversation can continue down at the station, put your hands behind your back, turn around"

"We're not doing this right now." I ignored him completely, instead I inspected the room.

I felt almost silly for wasting the time I had on the conversation, though talking to someone other than the Walrider did put me into a better mood.

"Hey! I said hands behind your back!" Sanchez was starting to raise his voice to the point where someone out on the main hall might hear.

"Take it easy, I'm only looking for some papers." maybe some therapists or physicians notes had been laying around, most of the papers in the office had to do with the Murkoff case.

"stop moving!" he dropped the cuffs and pulled his gun from his holster, now his yelling was starting to get annoying.

"You already shot me once, what are you planning to do now?" I clawed through more files, passing the one on the Walrider project.

"What? I... " he paused before muttering to himself "I'm so stupid, the guys probably delusional from blood loss."

"I heard that. Do I look like a delusional mess to you?" despite my comment I didn't look up at him, instead opting to go through papers that had fallen onto the ground.

Telling from his next comment he apparently noticed the lack of blood on me "don't tell me, you went home, patched yourself up, then snuck back here… you need a doctor, and a jail cell."

I found a rather thick folder that seemed promising "you're all bark and no bite. Isn't the building full of police? Shouldn't you call for backup?"

"A second ago you wanted information, now you want to be arrested?"

"No, I just want to make sure you know you're acting like an idiot" I plopped the file onto the desk.

There was a wounded silence while I skimmed the first page. It was a report:

MURKOFF ARD

THREE BLIND DREAMERS

Zeichner Facility CA

Patient number: 14306-8

Date of Report: 2013.10.17

PROJECT STATUS:

Patients brain activity has kept within baselines set by previous testing, faculty have claimed waking hallucinations in the corridors surrounding the holding area. Additional shielding recommended. Patients on the upper levels have experienced elevated levels of hysteria, no containment breach is suspected. It is recommended that…

I stopped reading and tucked the file into my coat pocket, this sounded suspiciously like another Mount Massive situation. Never mind that the name Zeichner sounded familiar.

"..that's it, Boyal! Peters! Get in here!"

"What?" I looked up from what I'd been doing to be greeted by more police running into the room.

"Who the hell?" the tall one on the right said as he came into the room

"I found the guy that beat the shit out of the CEO."

"I really thought we were getting to know each other there" I said with mock betrayal in my voice.

"On the ground!" the tall one shouted, I could have sworn it sounded like there were more boots coming down the hall

"Everyone just calm down, let's put the guns away and talk about this."

 _Hmmm, it sounds like you could sure use my help now._

 **Where the hell have you been!**

 _Just idly watching, you said you could handle yourself just fine._

 **You self absorbed bastard.**

 _You're talking about yourself again._

"One more time, get down!" not-Sanchez shouted again.

 **We'll talk about this later.** I didn't want the Walrider to think that I was about to go running back to it just because things got scary **In the meantime I need you to do something**

 _You can thank me later_ I felt the swarm start to slide out from under my skin

 **Not that! Just get ready to heal some wounds.**

 _...you're so boring._

 **You can whine at me later.**

I could already feel the last of the bullet holes from before healing completely. Just as I was about to take a charge through the line of officers blocking the door, just as they were about to open fire, a bone shattering crash shook the ground.

The courtyard outside the building burst into a panic. All three officers in the room lost their concentration on me for an instant, Just as confused as them I took my chance and dove through the ruined window into the chaos outside.


	8. The Eyes

AN: Another Friday, another chapter. Please enjoy (and maybe leave a review?).

***8***

Tumbling through the window, I found the court yard in disarray. Lodged in the snow was a wrecked car, most of the police and other people had ducked out of the way and hadn't come back out by the time I had ran over to the shredded piece of metal. There were no other wrecked cars and nothing appeared to had caused the accident.

I looked at the woman in the driver's seat.

Her eyes had been burned out of her head, her face frozen into a scream, dried and flaking blood ran from her charred sockets over her face and down her neck.

As the sight registered so did something else, something more sinister and harder to name. Looking into the back seat, something moved. I peered harder.

A ragged hand shot out and clawed at my eyes. Moving backwards just fast enough not to be mauled I stumbled onto the frozen ground and let out a startled yelp as the back door flew off the car. The few people that had began to shuffle into the yard began to stir themselves into a panic. I tried to take in everything at once, uniformed men rushed civilians away, a couple of them came running to help me and the person they thought was trapped in the car.

 _We need to leave. Now._

Everything felt wrong, even the Walrider was terrified.

Wait.

The Walrider sounded terrified.

I felt my muscles spasm in panic, I tried to yell at the police that were running up.

"No! Turn around!" one of them reached me.

"Whoa there, I can help"

"No, I can walk on my own, run!"

My words didn't come fast enough, there was a yell and a crunch from the car, half the other officers body hung from the rear door. Whatever was inside started pulling itself out.

"...what the hell" the cop wasn't speechless.

It looked like one of the more unfortunate patients from the asylum.

Each limb was thin as bone, the skin stretched over them was a sickly yellow, half of it turned brown from decay. The only thing covering it was battered cloth that could have been a jumpsuit at some point in the past. Every joint on the things body swelled and threatened to rip through the paper thin skin. It's face was the most striking part of the thing, it seemed hollow, like a skull. There was no flesh over the bone, no hair on its patchy scalp, bits of skull broke the surface of its skin. The area that should have been its mouth was sewn shut, the thread straining under what could have been words or a scream. I couldn't see it's eyes, they were covered by a blindfold made from a soiled gray cloth, tied haphazardly in half a dozen different places.

I got to my feet. It rushed me, pulling itself with nothing but its arms over the icy lawn.

 _Don't even look at it!_

A gust of the swarm flew from my arm without my permission.

I pushed myself from the ground, the cop next to me had started to run the other way the second that thing had begun to charge. Before I got a single step in it was on top of me. It's twig-ish limbs were almost as strong as I was with the Walrider's full cooperation. Jagged nails on a skeletal hand dug into my face and neck. I punched out at it, missing its head by a fraction of an inch.

In my struggle the swarm had begun to bleed out of me and into the fight. A cloud of it engulfed the thing on top of me. For a second the struggle lessened, I thought I had won. Then the dark cleared and it was back in front of my face. This time I swung with less coordination, the blindfold came off as I moved my hand.

 _Don't look at it!_

Too late.

It didn't have eyes.

Just empty sockets that seemed deep and dark enough to be black holes. For a second I thought the only thing I'd ever see again was that blank void.

The I looked up.

I was surrounded by an empty darkness, not unlike the first time I'd been conscious of the Walrider, though I wasn't embedded in a wall of shadow this time. The void stretched out in front of me.

"Where the hell did you go, you son of a bitch!" needless to say I was a little bit pissed off at the thing.

There was no reply, no sensory input of any kind. I couldn't even contact the Walrider. Then, then I was suddenly back in Mount Massive, back in the theatre. On the screen flashed the same inkblot image that I remembered from my first visit. I stumbled through the haphazard chairs, trying to remember how I'd found my way out in the real world. The dim light flicked across the wall, there was no way to climb out, the wall was completely solid. I turned back around, there had been doors at the back If I remembered correctly. I picked my way back across the room, the wall with the doors was solid too.

I wasn't in kansas anymore.

There had been a side hall leading up to the projection room, I went to where it had been. Nothing.

A little bit of panic hit me. There was no reason for it, this was all just a hallucination. It had to be. I was still back in Chicago, in a wrestling match with some half dead freak. Or that's what I told myself when something put its hand on my shoulder.

Without flinching I considered my options. This was not real, I had to remember that. Nothing could actually hurt me here.

Then I felt the nails digging into my flesh.

Ok, calm down.

I flailed an arm back, trying to swat whatever was back there before sprinting to my left. I hurtled chairs, traced the wall looking for an escape, found none, slid over the piano in the corner, and crouched under it. I could hear whatever it was out there, it's bare feet and hands scratching across the rotting floor. There might have been a sliver of movement at the edge of my vision. Then the room went completely dark. The images on the screen died, something went thud a foot from my face. I didn't dare to breath, just incase that tiny noise attracted its attention. Not a single sound stirred, there was no movement in the thick black. I didn't dare to leave my hiding place.

There had to be a way out, there was always a way out. I heard a scrape to my far right, I took the chance to run to the left and search for an escape. As long as I knew where it was, I was ok.

The wall was bare. Probably. Even if there was a door I wouldn't be able to see it.

Another scrape came from behind. I took off in an adrenaline fueled run. Around the room I went, there was no door.

I slid back into my place under the piano.

The screen ticked back to life, but it wasn't the inkblot footage from before. It looked like a home video of a funeral. There was a messy zoom on the memorial placard. My funeral, to be exact. Not a soul was in sight save for a funeral director and a half drunk homeless man that I only barely recognized as my brother, Tim. The footage just sat there, with nobody moving for a full three minutes until the funeral director asked Tim if he wanted to say any final words.

"No" I heard him say "he never did anything to help anybody, the son of a bitch doesn't deserve the pine box he's laying in."

The video just sat there, nobody moved or spoke for another five minutes before the film ended with a click and a rattle.

If the thing was trying to make me feel bad it was doing a shit job of it. Maybe I had to pull some sort of feel good bull shit where I faced the thing?

There was an earth ringing crash.

Ok, maybe that wasn't it.

As far as I could tell there was no way I could contact the Walrider, it just wasn't there. Maybe I could stack some chairs up to the balcony? That's if it was still there at any rate, I hadn't seen it. I might be able to-

The piano flipped from above me, flying through the air it landed with a deafening thud and the ring of keys. The thing in the dark got a vice grip on my ankle. Clawing my way forward and thrashing my legs I tried desperately to peel away from it. The grip on my leg didn't give, as hard as I tried. Instead I found myself dragging the two of us across the floor. It climbed from my ankle up my legs, cracked and chipped hands dug into muscle and scrapped bone with every inch that it advanced. In the inky black I fought for my escape. A mile long yard later my groping hand was met with an empty space where the floor board should have been. Kicking blindley I slid myself and it to the hole.

Maybe this had been what the crash was, maybe this was a way out. I had to know soon, the creatures weight was up to my shoulders, I all but felt its strangled breath creeping over my neck. I hung half way into the hole before I fell.

In the air all the extra weight of another body vanished off of me, I landed and sat up in a flurry of motion. I opened my eyes, only to be greeted by the inside of a stolen car and view of the desert through the windows.

"...Miles?" a small child's voice said my name from the back seat.

I twisted around to get a view from my place behind the wheel.

In his normal spot was Garrett, huddled against the door. Where Connor had been sat the thing.

The skeletal body lunged through the seats at me and hooked it's rotting hands around the back of my head. Tumbling back I fell from the car, through the desert, through the heat of burning sand, through the bright sunlight and back into a black maelstrom.

Pain burst from where its hands held my skull, familiar static rushed my ears

The living corpse's face filled my view. The swarm flowed around it, leaving its putrid figure untouched. Instead I felt a thousand particles burrowing through my skin and deep into my bones. This is how it felt to be shredded from the inside. Through the pain and my own vision going red I could only just see the blistered sockets that should have held eyes. I tried to push up and away but my arms were being crushed and liquefied by the thrashing of the swarm.

As the nails on the things hands drove themselves through my softening bone I tore my gaze away from its empty eyes.

I refused to die here.

With the all the strength and fortitude of a freezing kitten I began to tear myself away from the creature's grasp.

"I'm not dying… like this"

The swarm began to reverse its direction, flowing out of my bones and into the air. For a split second I saw and felt the snow around me. Taking that piece of reality I pushed back against the monster. It gave slightly.

I had to keep going, another shove, stronger now. It fought to keep a hold on me. A last heave.

It's ragged frame went flying across the courtyard. Gasping I slumped to my side and teetered to my feet.

I wiped the red out of my vision, moving my hand away from my face I saw that it came away covered in thick blood.

Whatever it was rolled itself back onto two feet after skidding to a stop. I wasn't about to pretend that I was ready for another charge, I swayed on my legs as it slinked into motion. I braced myself for impact.

It never came. The thing was torn from its path by a wound to its knee. The lanky frame crumbled in on itself and tumbled under its own power. A couple of seconds later the sound of gunfire caught up with my brain. It took me a minute more to realise that the thing had been shot.

The blow to its body was apparently enough to send it away. It rolled back through the snow, dripping heavy blackened blood as it retreated down a street drain and into the sewers.

The events of the past five minuets were catching up to the rest of me. I swiveled around unevenly, only to see Sanchez hanging out of the window, with a smoking gun in his hand. The majority of the courtyard had been cleared, though the crashed car still sat in the middle of it.

"What the fuck was that?" I asked no one in particular

 _I'll explain later, move._

I tried to put one foot in front of the other, but somewhere around my knee the message got lost, instead I stumbled face first into the snow.

 _We're not doing this now!_

My arms pushed me up from the ground, people were starting to trickle out of the court house. Without consulting me first, my legs decided that today was a nice day for a walk, then a jog, then marathon training. The buildings blurred as I whipped by, weather that was from my speed or the blood loss and half consciousness I didn't know.

At any rate the Walrider had steered me back to the motel just fine. It even managed to fish the key out of my pocket and land me safely in the bed.

The passing out part, however, was all my doing.


	9. Real Monsters

AN: Hope everyone enjoys the chapter. Also if you're reading this, you have a nice week you're pretty awesome.

***9***

I'm not sure how long I was out, but I do know that from the second I opened my eyes I wished I was still unconscious. I didn't have to try to move to know that my everything ached and stung. I tried to blink myself into being fully awake before I moved. As I sat up each individual muscle in my back and shoulder screamed at me to stop. Once I was up I noticed how dry my throat was. After no small amount of pleading with my brain to move my legs I hobbled over to the bathroom sink.

Cupping my hands I strained to bring a hand full of water to my mouth. After drinking far too little I glanced up into the mirror.

My hair could have been mistaken for a birds nest, there were stained patches of dirt from where the thing had ripped at my face. Oh, right, and dried streaks of dark blood ran from under my eyes down to my chin, my right cheek was painted red from where I'd wiped at it before.

Add to that the shredded state of my jacked and grayed skin and anyone could have mistaken me for an extra from the walking dead.

I slumped back onto the toilet. People say that you can't use it as a seat, those people are wrong. While there I took stock of what had happened.

Aside from the hallucination there hadn't been that much of a physical struggle, or not that I was aware of. The fight at the end might have been real.

My muscles ached down to my bones.

Scratch that, the fight with the swarm at the end had to have been real.

 **Hey, what the hell happened?** If I didn't know the Walrider had to. It had to know what that thing was at least.

 _Nothing. I don't want to talk about it._ Something told me that it knew much more than it was letting on.

 **Really, you have nothing to say? Because I nearly got turned into hamburger meat.**

 _Go back to sleep._

My tired legs threatened to move.

I held myself in check. **Sense when I ever listen to what people tell me?**

 _You're in no shape for this, rest more._

 **About that, I feel like my bones and muscle just went through a messy divorce, why is that?**

…

 **More importantly, what the hell was that thing!**

 _Nothing that I want to talk about._

 **Really, because it showed up and knocked my sorry ass out cold.**

 _It's really nothing, let's find the CEO. Actually, we should find a different motel. Or we could go up to the newspaper's office. You wanted to do that, right?_

 **I'm not about to move, now spill the beans**

 _It's just another one of Murkoffs experiments, nothing to worry about. It will burn itself out._

 **Another experiment.** This was just wonderful

 _It's nothing to worry about. Really. They'll die on their own._

 **It's been months and that thing was still more than strong enough to take you on.**

 _Really, I swear..._

 **No. You were terrified. You. The murder happy demon of the night. What the hell is that thing?**

There was a pause long enough to make me think the Walrider had disappeared back into the depths of my mind.

Then, _go back to the bed. You need to keep your back straight unless you want it to heal with a curve._

 **I want answers first.**

 _...move, then I'll tell you._

That was good enough for me. The pain from any movement was still nearly more than I could bear, each movement felt more like someone was trying to string a harp with my tendons that actually steps. The bed seemed a mile away, but somehow I made it.

Laying face down I thought **There. Now spill it.**

I felt muscle and bone sliding into place in my back _Murkoff started a second experiment at Mount Massive._

 **The bastards didn't learn the first time.**

 _No, this happened before you or even Waylon ever got there._

 **Why the hell don't I know about it then**

There was an impatient surge of static _Do you want me to tell you what happened or not?_

I sighed **Go on**

 _After Billy had been a successful host for me I began to test the limits, while the place was still relatively intact I was inspecting the halls. There was something… I'll just show you._

The sight of the sheets vanished from in front of me. I found that I was standing in a busy hall, it was Mount Massive, that was for sure, though the sight of living people in it might have been more unnerving that its usual decrepit state. The Walrider as I knew it had checked out, but I could see a thin shadow tracing around the halls that I knew had to be it. The scenery followed the shadow, and me with it. I could catch small slivers of conversation.

"Repressed childhood memories…"

"...tuatara lizards…"

They droned on, at the end of the hall I could see a guarded steel door, apparently leading into a restricted ward. the memory started to get fuzzy.

Odd, the walrider recorded everything spot on, with no flaw or variation. The light above me flickered, a couple of scientists walked through where I was standing, muttering about cheap lights. The next conversation I heard was louder than the others, apparently it was the point the Walrider was trying to show me.

"Billy Hope has become more stable over the past month, I believe that we need to increase the containment measures and the levels of inorganic stress in the area." a lady whose face I recognized but had never met before spoke.

"Nah, it's fine. Billy's not going anywhere" a fully dressed Trager spoke. At the sound of his voice my hands began to itch ever so slightly

"Sir, that's beside the point. I'm afraid that the Blind Dreamer Project might be viable, if there were cross contamination due to a facility breach-"

"But nothing, it's not happening" Trager took a step towards the guarded door "do me a favor, would ya?"

The woman stifled an angry sigh "yes sir?"

"Go ahead and round up a couple more subjects for the blind dreamer thing, I have a feeling it's gonna be huge."

The woman gave a stern nod, then disappeared down the hall and around a corner. The scenery wavered even more as Trager moved through the doors. It was like looking through flowing water, but I could just make out the shape of an emaciated body strapped to a gurney before the doors to the other hall swung shut. The scenery flowed away more and more until only a vague feeling of unease was left. I felt how the Walrider had, like a cornered dog readying to lunge.

The Walrider was a predator, not something that cowered easily, having the hair on my arms stand on end from its reaction to the memory frayed my nerves almost as much as my ordeal with the blind dreamer.

The last of the distorted vision dripped away from in front of me until I was greeted by the gray sheets of the bed.

My back still hurt like hell.

 **So, the Blind Dreamer project.**

 _That's what they called it._

I remembered the files in my coat pocket. **Why didn't you want me to look into it.**

 _It's none of our business._

 **Bull shit it's not. I nearly died, that makes it my business.**

 _No._

Bits of bone slid back into their sockets, skin merged back together, tight knots of flesh loosened and shifted back to where they belonged.

 **With your help or not, I'm finding the damn thing.**

 _Don't do it._

 **I am. Also, what the hell did it do to you?**

 _Nothing._ A sliver of annoyed static started working its way into the conversation.

 **Really, because I seem to remember the swarm trying to pop me like a balloon.**

 _It was nothing._

I wasn't getting any answers, I didn't care. **I'll figure everything out eventually.**

 _Good luck with that._

I was close enough to being in one piece to be able to sit up. Fishing through my pockets I grabbed the file I'd found in the courthouse. As I flipped through the pages I became more and more angry that the Walrider and tried to hide them from my by screwing with my memory.

I rustled the top page away. What right did the damn thing have? If I wanted to do something hopelessly dangerous, than why the hell should to try to stop me. Hell, my own bad decision making had been what led me to it in the first place. I carelessly read the first and second pages. There were three of the fucking things. The Walrider was being a damn coward about it. Why? I sure as hell wasn't, and I'm just a guy; it's literally immortal.

My blood boiled the more I read.

The blind dreamers had been transferred to the Zeichner facility. I'd been there too, had the Walrider been hiding this from me when I was there too? I skimmed the page. "forced hallucinations… delusional experiences causing brain death… deletion of existing personality..."

The damn things could apparently wreck a man's mind faster and more thoroughly than anything at Mount Massive. Why the hell did Murkoff keep doing this? Did they just think that making monsters was a good way to spend the weekend?

I let out half a strangled growl and allowed myself to fall backward onto the bed. There was still a hint of soreness left in my limbs.

 _Are you done pouting now?_

 **Not now, goddamn it.**

I pried myself up and walked to the duffle bag. Digging through the side pockets I found the little disposable camera I'd picked up at a gas station about a week ago. I laid out the documents on the bed. Carefully I took pictures of each before I tucked them away into their battered file folder. Then I emptied my duffle bag, laid the papers on the bottom, and replaced the cloths back over them.

The last of my aching was gone by the time I started changing into a clean shirt and new jacket. I gave my face a good rinsing and ran my hands through my hair until I didn't look like hell warmed over, then I walked outside.

 _Looks like someone's on a mission._

 **I'm not in the mood to talk.**

 _Just indulge me for a moment, at least-_

 **I'm going to drop of the pictures at the newspaper, find the CEO, kill him, then we're going after the blind dreamers.**

 _...you're not going to be able to beat them._

The dead ladies blood streaked face flashed before me. I'd killed a lot of people recently, sure. But when I did it, it's because they had it coming.

 _We won't walk away from another fight alive._

Murkoffs experiments had made enough monsters.

 **I don't give a damn.**


	10. You're Fired

AN: Here's a new chapter, hot off the press. Please enjoy (and maybe leave a review if you're feeling generous).

***10***

This time my walk to the office wasn't interrupted. The sun peaked lazily through the clouds, given that my day had ended pretty late yesterday I figured that I'd been passed out through the night and that this was the morning. The lobby was still deserted, I took the elevator to the correct floor, this time I had to press the button myself, apparently the Walrider wasn't feeling as generous as it had the other day.

When the elevator doors drifted apart the editing room was still a swarming mess of people. I waded my way through it, eventually arriving at Trisha's office. Without knocking I let myself in.

Trisha sat behind her desk, she barely registered my presence. Fine then, looks like I'll just be starting the conversation myself.

"Well, good morning too you too."

"What the hell happened out there?" I was stopped before I could think of what I was going to say next.

"long story-"

"good, I'd love to hear it" something about her voice told me that she would not love to hear it.

"... well, as you know there was some kind of attack and the CEO was mauled, and did you hear they weren't going to prosecute? Thats crazy" I had to find a way to make this conversation about the documents, fast. I didn't want to waste time here while there were mind controlling killers running around town.

"Cut the bull shit, you know what happened there" at this point she had stood up from the other side of the desk and looked like she was half ready to fly across the table to strangle me.

Something wasn't right, Trisha was obviously more calm and collected than this. "what makes you think-"

"don't put the conversation back on me. Franks in the goddamn hospital, the courthouse is in ruins, and you're standing here- a day later- without a scratch or an explanation."

I'd forgotten about Frank. At least he was still ali-

Wait, what?

"He's in the hospital?"

"Am I speaking english?" every word that came out of her mouth had more and more acid behind it.

"hold on, which one?" it'd be more then likely that everyone from the courthouse, including the CEO, would be at the same hospital.

"RushU Medical, not that it matters. I just came back from there, he's not even conscious yet"

Bingo. I searched through my pockets for the role of film that had the pictures of the documents on them. Without ceremony I tossed it onto her desk. "Ok great, the pictures on that are extremely important. Don't lose them. See you later." I turned to leave the room.

Trisha ran between me and the door. "Stop. You're not leaving until I know exactly what happened."

Fine, I wasn't wasting my time here when I knew where to find my guy. "the whole thing was my fault"

"What?"

Sometimes the truth is too crazy to be believed. "yep. I accidently released an insane black smoke monster into the building. Frank was an accident, I swear. And the CEO? I did that. Also, I didn't mean to blow the power out to the city block but sometimes things just get away from me."

Trisha looked me in the eye for too long for me to be comfortable.

"you're not lying."

I huffed in surprise. She was either a living lie detector, or absolutely insane.

"If you were, you'd come up with something more believable." she said, half to herself.

"Fair enough" I made a move to go past her and to the door.

She blocked me, "you're not going anywhere until I know exactly what happened"

"Trisha, I just leveled the county court house, you aren't about to be able to stop me."

She scowled and changed the subject "what's on the film Miles?"

Looks like I wasn't getting out of here that easily "documents about more of Murkoffs monsters."

"more of…?"

"The car crash at the courthouse? A lady had blood dripping from the eyes. Lets just say that that wasn't just a case of some bad break lines."

"Wait, where does Murkoff come in?"

"Don't tell me you forgot about Mount Massive."

I could see wheels turning "Ms. Ryan said it was personal. You were a patient."

"Close but no cigar."

She glared at me again.

"Remember the second set of footage?"

The reaction was instant "that was you?"

"Yep" I walked to the door, unimpeded this time.

I stepped out in the editing room before Trisha had the sense to move.

"Wait, I'm not about to let you walk out my front door after dropping that on me."

"Jeez, one second you're telling me to get out, then I'm not allowed to leave. You'll make a man confused if you keep that up" I quickened my pace.

"I'm not letting a lead like you vanish" she hurried to keep up.

"I've never felt so loved"

I neared the elevator. This time it slid open for me.

I kept talking as I stepped in "besides, if you want a juicy, one of a kind tip, I'd look at what's on that film."

The doors slid shut before Trisha spoke back.

If I knew anything about her she was probably smashing the button on the elevator trying to get it to return, or racing down the stairs. Either way I wasn't going to spend more time talking. The doors slid open, I slipped into the lobby and then onto the street. If I remembered correctly the hospital Trisha mentioned was a few blocks east of the courthouse, an easy walking distance from here. I burrowed into my jacket against the cold. I'd have to be more careful with this one, it was the last I had.

 _Yes, be careful. You should listen to your own advice._

The street was deserted and I didn't care if I looked a little crazy right now, "you know you're not about to talk me out of going after the dreamers."

 _I have to. Neither of us would survive._

That was new. "awww, is the Walrider scared of the big bad boogeyman"

 _Don't pretend you're not scared by hiding behind bad jokes. We will die if you do this._

"I nearly died at Mount massive, I don't see much of a difference."

 _There's no reason for you to be doing this anyway. We can go after the Murkoff workers, that will stop them, that's all you really want to do_

"You really don't understand, do you?"

 _You want Murkoff to go out of buisness, I want to watch their organs seep from their pores. We can do both of those things together._

We were getting closer to a more busy part of town **No, I went to mount massive to reveal all the horrible shit that was going on. Maybe I got caught up in wanting to watch Murkoff burn, maybe I went off the deep end a bit.**

 _No, I'd say the revenge is very justified._

 **Not about that, I forgot that I wanted to stop a company from hurting people. Apparently I forgot that I wanted to the world to know what was going on so that innocent people wouldn't get hurt.** I was starting to kick the mental crap out of myself.

 _There you are with your hollow morals again._

The Walrider wasn't helping. **Fine I'll cut to the chase. We're here to make Murkoff- and anything else we get our hands on- stop hurting people. That includes crazy, blind, half psychic monstrosities. Got it?**

 _You know I hate it when you delude yourself into thinking you're a good person._

I jostled my way through a crowd **Well fucking deal with it, because that's where we're at now.**

Somehow that didn't earn an acidic response, instead I found myself in silence as I walked the rest of the way to the hospital. My walk gained half an hour from me having to give the courthouse a wide berth. It was the next day and the place was still swarming with cops. As I neared a more busy part of town the snow on the ground went from a relatively pristine white to a gray slurry of oil and road salt. I'm sure my boots will thank me later

Eventually I came to Rush Universities Medical center, this was where they had taken Frank, with any luck the CEO would have went to the same place.

Well, here goes nothing.

I walked straight through the front doors and into the lobby.

 **Do me a favor and figure out which floor I need to get to.**

There was no reply in words, the Walrider must of either been so done with me that I didn't get the pleasure of a response or so eager to kill the CEO that it didn't care.

At any rate I made my way to the elevator. It was packed full, I found myself crushed into a corner. For a few floors people shuffled on and off, then:

 _It's this one_

When the doors drifted open I stepped out into the white hall. A few nurses and orderlies moved up and down the halls, every once and awhile a doctor in a too-big white coat could be seen. Between the nurses station, the little break area, and the lack of visiting families, I couldn't have missed how many cops there were. Just in my field of view there had to be at least half a dozen.

Keeping my head down I consulted the Walrider on where to go next.

 _Follow the lights._

At the very end of the far left hall I saw one of the ceiling lights flicker. A couple of twists and turns later I came across a room with a couple of cops idly standing in front of it. Damn it, there had to be a way around them.

 _Killing them is the obvious answer_

 **Not now.**

I took a look back at the hall, the light above the guarded door still flickered slightly as it recovered from the Walriders tampering.

 **Hey, kill the lights.**

I had an idea.

The fluorescent bulbs flickered, then went out completely. There was only a dim glow from connecting halls to see by.

"Damn it." one of the cops muttered before reaching for the flash lights on his belt.

 **Get that too.**

The flashlight turned on, only to have the weak stream of light flicker off as well.

 **Now I need you to make an appearance.**

 _You have to be delusional if you think I'm helping you with these pranks._

I thought back to that little hospital in Colorado where Dr. Fin worked.

 **It worked before. Now I need you to make a appearance and get their attention. Draw them away, I don't care how. Just don't kill anything.**

 _It would be faster to just kill them and be done with it._

 **I already said no. They're just earning a paycheck. The real targets behind the door.**

 _I won't entertain your moral crusade forever._

 **But you will right now. Off you go.**

Much to my surprise, there was no angry grumble as the swarm seeped from under my skin. In the dim side hall I could just make out the shape of a man that the swarm formed. Like a ghost it glided into the main hall and brushed passed the officers.

"You're not supposed to be down here."

The figure hesitated then drifted further from view.

"Hey mister, come back. You can't go that way!" the second cop started trotting off after the man he thought he saw.

"McGraw, get back here. We're not supposed to leave" Despite what he was saying the first cop took a step or two after his lost companion.

As soon as there was enough room for me to get the door open and slip in I took my chance. With light footsteps and practiced silence I snuck me way behind the man and through the closed door.

Walking into the room I shut the door behind me with a soft click. Behind the closed door I felt the lights turn back on in the hall. For housing one of the most high profile men in the country the room was surprisingly plain, the windows sat covered by verticle blinds, conveniently blocking any view there might have been from the street, probably to stop the prying eyes of the media. The few pieces of furniture in the room seemed unassuming enough, all being made of a light colored fake wood and being accented in baby blue. The only thing that didn't look like it was trying to fool you into thinking you were just visiting grandma's house was the bed. It sat against the rightmost wall, the gray plastic and steel that made up its frame stood in stark contrast to the attempt at friendliness the rest of the room had made. On the bed itself lay the CEO, a white sheet covered him up to the torso, telling by the lack of reaction from my entering he must have been asleep. Somewhere in the background a heart monitor beeped.

 _This is too easy. Let's give him a few nightmares, that would at least be somewhat fun._

I ignored the Walrider's return completely.

Walking over to the sleeping man I shook him by a bruised shoulder. He came awake with a start and a confused noise that fell somewhere between a grumble and a yelp.

Rise and shine you miserable fuck.

For as pissed as I was at this man, I couldn't think of a single thing to say while he sputtered out slurred and garbled words.

"Wha- who! You! No, nonononono. I- it. guards…!"

I didn't make a move to quite him down. I must have busted his jaw or something, because even for all his straining nothing came out above a tried whisper. As much as I enjoyed watching him panic, I had real questions.

"What is the Blind Dreamer project" I surprised myself with the question, I'd been expecting more threats and swears.

He seemed just as confused as I was "wha- Blind… Who are you?"

 _There's no reason to waste time with these questions, just kill him and be done with it._

Some of the swarm slid out from under my skin but made no move towards the CEO.

It was obvious that the haze unnerved him, I saw what few functioning muscles that were left tense, I could nearly feel him fighting down the panic. I only wished that I could keep him like that for as long as I had been. He had to know what the swarm was, or he at least recognized it from the beating I gave him. Did he even take the time to learn about all of the terrible things that were putting the zeros on his bank account?

"That's not important. The blind dreamers, what are they?"

 _Just drop it. Take your revenge and leave._

 **No.**

"Blind… that piece of shit nightmare? I don't… I didn't. It's not my fault." Even now he was trying to push the blame somewhere else.

"It's your company, you gave it the green light." the swarm reached forward, I pulled it back, the CEO flinched "Tell me about it."

"...you're… No."

Faster than I expected, I found myself gripping the man's throat, behind me the swarm rolled and raged. I could have squeezed just a little bit and ended him right there

 _Do it._

I didn't.

"Tell me why the fuck you thought it was a good idea to go around making these monsters" with each word I had to pull back little bits of the swarm, it took all that I had not to tighten my grip.

The man was wheezing, I just barely made out the words "Can't… breathe…"

I let him go but didn't bother reigning in the swarm.

For a moment the man fought to catch his breath, when he started to speak his eyes still bulged from their sockets and the words were uneven "It was- just… business. That… the blind dreamers, the walrider. It wasn't personal."

So he did recognize the Walrider

 _Obviously. Now: End. Him._

The swarm whipped forward and back, I wasn't letting the Walrider win that easily.

"Torturing people was just business." scenes of Mount Massive burst through my mind "killing to keep your secrets," the memory of Waylon laying in a pool of his own blood filled my head "kidnapping goddamn children" the ride back with Connor and Garrett hit me like a freight train, "was all in the name of profit. How the hell were you going to make a dime off of any of that!" I might have been yelling at that point. I'm not really sure.

There was a panicked gurgle before any actual words came from the CEO's mouth "just… Murkoff makes- We were trying to expand the biosecurity branch of the business."

"By making monsters?"

"By making weapons"

You could see that the strain of speaking was wearing on the man. There was pounding on the door, apparently between my yelling and the swarm we'de attracted some attention. It made sense, in a twisted sort of way, using people to cultivate a thinking biological weapon. Or at least it did with the Walrider, I still had no idea how the blind dreamer project fit into that. Unfortunately, I was a bit too upset to ask. Instead I went back down on the man.

"All of that shit just to make a fancy new weapon! Innocent people died! I nearly died! Some random lady on the street minding her own damn buisness in her own damn car got killed!"

The words came through in choked breaths that escaped through my hands "only… Walrider… blind dreamers… just. psychological."

"Just psychological warfare my ass! Those things are out for blood and that's on you" I was standing back up at that point. Somewhere in the background I thought I heard the door being breached.

 _Are you happy now? That's all you wanted to know._

I still had more I wanted to ask.

Unfortunately panicked yells and barked orders were filling the hall outside of the room, it was time to get out before escape became a non option. The room was painted black by clouds of nanobots, if I hadn't been making an effort to do it there was no way I'd be able to see the CEO laying in is bed. Taking one last glance at the son of a bitch I let the swarm close in on him before leaving the room.

The screaming stopped almost as soon as it began. There would be a puddle of liquid flesh soaking the mattress before the last echo died out.

 _There, was that so hard?_

 **…**

I burst the through the door, the swarm ragged past me and all hell broke loose. Fluorescent lights popped and rained sparks, a few shots rang out, some the bullets ripped into me. The hall went black and I disappeared through the inky darkness.


	11. A Terrible Idea

When I had finally found Chealsy it was completely by chance. Connor, Garrett, and I had been in the car, sitting at a stop light while a crowd of people walked by. She was right there at the edge of the gagle. I unrolled the window.

"Hey! Chealsy! Over here!"

Her head whipped to the side upon hearing her name. When she saw me she made a beeline for the car, nearly getting mowed down by a truck in the process. In less time than it took to blink I found her pounding on the passenger side window. I unlocked the door, which she nearly ripped off the hinges from opening so wildly.

"What the fuck happened to you!? Where the hell is Waylon? Are these his kids?" She fired off the questions one after the other.

"Slow down," I glanced into the rearview at the back seat.

Garrett had curled into a quivering ball at all of the commotion, a few quiet sobs made their way out from him. Connor just sat there, staring back at me in the mirror with glazed over eyes.

"We can talk about this later. In private. Where can we go?"

Chealsy may have no filter or a sense of tact, but something in my voice or just the feeling in the car must of tipped her off that something big had happened. From the stop light and the street she directed me to the run down hotel she had been staying at. We walked into the dim room to find nothing other than a suitcase, a laptop, and Waylon's camera.

"Micky must still be out making calls, after Waylon disappeared I assumed Murkoff must have done something"

I walked into the room with Connor and Garrett following close behind "about that, I need to talk to you." I took a look at the kids, "Alone."

Without a word she walked over to me, the look on her face was one of worry. I stepped into the hall.

Before leaving she gave a quick "we'll be just outside" to the boys as reassurance. They didn't even look up as the door closed.

As soon as the handle clicked into place Chealsy's entire demeanor changed.

"Where the fuck is Waylon!?" the panic of her voice told me that she had her suspicions.

"Chealsy," there was no easy way to say it, "Waylon's dead."

"Shit! Those asshole sons of bitches couldn't even-" tears that hadn't been there a second ago ran from her eyes to her chin, only to drip down to the soiled carpet, "but, this shit was over. How could- I don't-! No!"

She sobbed for I don't know how long. At some point I ended up being her shoulder to cry on. She hadn't even been there through the worse of it, and she'd never been the crying type to begin with. Things must have taken a bigger toll on her than I'd realised.

"Hey, we need to do something about-"

"Not now!" she said between sobs

"But, the kids"

"...shit" with some amount of effort she pried herself from my shoulder. After only a second's pause she went back into the motel room without another word to me.

I'm not really sure when or where she got the idea to send the boys to live with their grandparents, and I have no idea how she figured out where they lived, but the whole mess was over much too fast for comfort. It was only a day or two afterwards that I was dropping off the boys on that snow covered doorstep in Iowa. There seemed to be something just wrong about it at the time. I haven't been able to put my finger on it, and I'm still missing most of the pieces, but-

 _Would you come off of it, everything seems so important to you now._

 **I wasn't that focused on it until you said something.**

A near silent huff of static sounded off in my mind.

Either way, the only ones to have left the Zeichner facility alive were me, Connor and Garrett, and the dreamers. I had no damn clue as to what was going on, there were no leads in the documents as to how I could track down the dreamers, and the kids were, well kids, so they probably didn't know anything.

I sat quietly in my spot on the bus. There were maybe half a dozen people besides me, Greyhounds had not been a popular way to get around since the seventies, but it was my best bet for getting back to California to take a second look at Zeichner.

 _You won't find anything there._

 **Weren't you telling me to get out of Chicago before we got on the bus?**

 _Only for the sake of leaving town, not for going on this wild goose chase._

 **This will go alot faster and be alot easier if you would just tell me what you know about the dreamers.**

A response never came and I had to work to hold in a sigh.

With little else to do on the ride I rummaged through my duffle bag and pulled out the files on the Dreamers.

At least there weren't any nazi scientists involved with this one. At least not from what I could gather. Knowing that these things were supposed to be psychological weapons a few things made sense, the hallucinations, the feelings of paranoia, the fact that they were ridiculously strong meant that they could be dropped in just about anywhere. What the hell was Murkoff thinking? Scratch that, they were thinking of their wallets. It's been hours but I continued skimming the pages in front of me.

"...for all intensive purposes patients 14306-8, 14279-1, and 14868-1 exhibit power tracking capabilities. When exposed to various fields, be they electric, magnetic, or otherwise undefined the subjects automatically gravitate towards and attack the strongest source. Further testing suggests…"

Wait a second. Attracted to strong undefined fields.

 **Does that mean what I think it means?**

…

 **Are these things following us? Is that why you were so eager to get the hell out town?**

 _Maybe._

 **Why are you so-**

Wait a second.

 **This is actually great.**

 _No it's not. They are hunting us do you realise what this means?! You have no idea how serious this is._

 **I don't think you realise what this means. We can choose where and kind of when we go up against these things next.**

 _That won't help! It's better if we just keep traveling the country, or better yet we could move to a different continent. Germany's a nice place._

 **No. We have to kill these things.**

 _No, it's not our job to go around killing monsters._

 **That's not how you felt about murkoff.**

 _That was revenge, and it was fun. Besides, I like causing death and destruction, the blind dreamers do the same, as far as I'm concerned we have a mutual goal._

 **Hold the damn phone. I'm nothing like those things, I have this thing called a conscience, and I'm not, you know, a complete and total monster.**

 _Don't flatter yourself. We've been going around slaughtering Murkoff workers for the last few months. Do you really think that you're anything more than an unfeeling monster to them?_

 **That's different. They killed people for profit.**

 _And you kill people for revenge._

A few forced memories of dead and dieing Murkoff workers flashed before me: a manager driven to insanity, a regional supervisor bleeding to death on his kitchen floor, the company's head of security watching his intestines fall to the ground, and best of all the CEO falling out the window as a broken man

 _...and pleasure_

 **It's not the same and you know it.**

 _All I know is that you've run out of reasons to justify your quest for revenge- excuse me 'justice'- so now you're looking for a new pet project. And this one is going to get us killed._

 **You're just scared.**

 _No, I'm reasonable._

The idea that it thought it was reasonable had me fighting the urge to gag and laugh at the same time. Knowing that there was no way I could out talk the Walrider I looked out the window in silence instead. If the dreamers were coming after me it probably would have been better if I'd stayed in Chicago. Actually, with the ammount of hell I'd raised at the courthouse and hospital, maybe it'd been better that I'd left. I couldn't help but get a bit twitchy, there was nothing I could do but wait until I got somewhere useful. I wasn't going to California any more, that much I decided, there was no reason to run that far, especially if I was waiting for the dreamers to catch up to me.

 _That's a terrible idea_

 **Not now.**

The only real thing to decide now was where I wanted this to happen. Somewhere empty would be the best choice, the fewer random people around, the better. Where was I now, the midwest? Missouri? Iowa? We passed a sign on the highway, 50 miles to Des Moines. So it was Iowa after all. That would work it was mostly farms around here, you could probably be miles away from another person without much trouble. And it was flatter than a table top, so visibility wasn't a problem. The dreamer from Chicago seemed to be weak to gun fire, getting something on short notice should not be undoable.

 _At least you're planning our doom, thank goodness for that._

I didn't bother to talk back. there were too many things on my mind, the most I could do now was to wait and to plan.


	12. Homeward Bound

AN: Hello again, hope last week treated you well (this one certainly isn't going to be that great for Miles (Whoops, did I just say that out loud?)). Anyways, Please enjoy the chapter:

***12***

The bus stopped in the middle of town. It was smaller than Chicago, and less much less busy, with any luck I might be able to keep my head low not and cause a scene.

I slung the duffel bag over my shoulder, adjusting the weight as I walked. First things first, I needed to find a library. Free internet and decent heating were the things I need the most after the cold and lonely ride.

 _If you think I'm helping you with your fool's errand you're delusional._

 **You do realise the less help I get the less likely I am to be ready when the dreamers get here, right?**

 _I'm still advocating for running away._

 **We both know that's not an option.**

 _Only because you're not letting it be._

I rattled through my pockets for some spare change. Large bus stops were probably the last place on earth you could find a working pay phone.

 **I'm making a decision. It's final.**

Before the Walrider got a chance to make another humming response I dropped a few quarters into the phone and dialed Chealsy's cell.

This time she picked up before the second ring had time to finnish.

"Hello?"

"Hey Chealsy, long story, but I'm in Des Moines, Iowa."

"A long story? I don't suppose it has anything to do with that fiasco at the Chicago court house does it? Wait, how did you get to Iowa?" I could tell she was trying to underplay her annoyance, she was probably still peeved from my volunteering her help to Trisha.

"Busses are still a thing. What did you hear about Chicago?"

"Nothing much. Officially there was a violent riot, the perpetrators came in with smoke bombs and regular bombs. But we both know better."

"Right… anyways could you google where the nearest library is? I'm at the corner of" I gave a quick glance around "6th avenue and Cherry street."

I could hear the clicking of a keyboard in the background "So. The court house. Did you get your man?"

I had gotten most of the people in the building. I had painted the walls, floor, and ceiling with the blood of the terrified and the innocent.

 _I had fun._

"Yeah. Roberts is dead."

There was a bit of silence, then "good riddance to the bastard. OK, so the library is at the most stereotypical address ever, 1000 Grand Avenue. Go north, take left at Grand Avenue"

I took a look up to get an idea of where north was "Thanks. Also, I got some documents on more Murkoff experiments. Something called Three Blind dreamers. I ran into one earlier, they're an ass and a half to deal with. I'll email you a copy when I get to the library."

"Wait a second, that sounds familiar. I think Waylon found something about them when he was-"

I didn't want to hear about what Waylon did and didn't do. "Never mind that, just make sure they get out there. Murkoff wanted this to stay silent."

Chealsy sighed "you're going to have to talk about Waylon some day you know"

"Maybe, but today's not that day."

"I'm not getting into this now. Just don't get killed. I'll be waiting for those documents."

I hung up without saying good bye, I was probably running out of time on the phone as it was.

Walking north I tried and failed to keep from thoughts of the past.

Waylon hadn't mentioned much about what he knew about the asylum. There was never a good time to bring it up besides. Hell, I was too distracted with my own demons to be worrying about his too.

 _Don't tell me you're going down this rabbit hole again._

I didn't reply, there was no reason to zone out while walking around a strange city. I probably looked crazy enough if the side long glances I had been getting on the bus were anything to go by. I walked on avoiding looking directly at anyone, instead keeping an eye out for Grand avenue.

The wind picked up and I huddled into my too thin jacket. Winter was rolling in, I'd have to get something figured out for shelter.

 _We could just go west. Or south. Mexico is a nice place, we could do whatever we wanted there._

A few lazy ideas of raising hell south of the border drifted through my mind. I dismissed them as not being my own.

I took a left where Chealsy had told me to.

A pack of cars drove by, snow crunched under their wheels. Blood streaked faces flashed before me, distant howls drifted over the cold wind.

I stopped, the street around me drifted back to a normal mix of white and gray.

 **I get it, you don't approve.** I continued on my walk. It was going to get real old real fast if Walrider was going to resort to cheap tricks.

 _That wasn't me. Besides, I have nothing to gain from making you hallucinate in the street._

I could see the library off to my left now.

 _The blind one reached deeper than you realized, I'm still trying to fix you._

Ok, I'll bite. **If you're just fending off some nightmares I promise you we've both seen worse.**

A hint of static reached my ears as I walked through the library doors.

Despite the large open floor plan, things seemed to darken, the sound around me was muffled and had a wavering howl sitting just below the ambient chatter.

 _I'm taking a break then. Just remember that you're looking for more of this._

The Walriders presence drifted from my thoughts, it could have been moping somewhere in my subconscious. I couldn't tell through the thickness that seemed to cling to the air. The floor shifted and swayed as I walked, I'm sure the lady sitting behind the front desk thought I was drunk. Despite the disorientation I found a computer with a document scanner attached to it. By the time I sat down the whole room seemed bathed in a sickly yellow light.

Thick and unbending fingers fished the documents from my duffle bag. I had to put all of my concentration into putting them into the skanner that moved every time I made to use it. This dimming yellow light closed in on me until the only thing I had left to focus on was the burning white of the computer screen.

Something moved in front of me. Behind of me. I didn't - couldn't - move fast enough to get a look.

The howling grew louder, then drifted into silence. The noise throbbed in and out, my stomach threatened to make a run for it every time the sound shifted.

Around me a darker patch grew in my already dark surroundings. Something brushed my back.

" _Are you sure you don't need my help?"_ the walrider seemed to speak from somewhere outside of my mind.

"What are you trying to-?" I cut myself short to keep from dry heaving.

Something brushed against me again. Block rings traced along the edge of my vision.

" _I'm not doing anything._ "

The scanner groaned, the howl warbled in and out. Every time I moved my eyes the light of the screen stabbed into them. There was something out there. Something moving just out of sight.

My head dropped down, the feeling of falling hit me and then disappeared in waves.

"Ok" I slumped back up "you win, fix this"

The shadow in the shadows seemed to consider its options " _I might take a second to enjoy watching you squirm first"_

Without the strength or ability left to reply I fought to keep my head upright. The thing in the haze came in closer. The touches to my back and shoulders were cold and stung. I would have shivered but something hot traced down my face.

Without taking the time to inspect it I slumped down to the desk. The howling became unbearable. Any louder and my eardrum might burst. I closed my eyes, cold hands ripping my back to ribbons.

Then the sound stopped.

Something shook me by the shoulder.

"Hey, mister. Are you ok?"

My innards churned with every movement I made but I scraped myself upwards. I looked over, some girl, late teens maybe early twenties wearing a nametag that said she worked here stood over me.

"I'm fine." I couldn't have been less convincing if there were a sword sticking out of my chest.

"...Ok, do I need to call someone for you?"

"No. Thank you." I straitened aching shoulders and faked focus on the screen.

The girl left with a worried glance over her shoulder, but said nothing else.

 _As I was saying, you need me._

 **What I need is for you to stop playing games.**

I tried to shake off the last of the nausea as I uploaded the file from the computer and onto an email for Chelsy.

 _I'm blocking all of that from bursting out. The dreamers are too powerful, even for the both of us. They can hurt me too, I should have just left you dead in the snow in Chicago. I could have saved myself the trouble I'm in now._

 **If they're really as bad as you think that that means we have to get rid of them.**

 _No. Staying alive is what matters the most._

I sent the pictures, then pulled up a realtor's website.

 **If I thought like that I'd have never have gone to Mount Massive in the first place.**

 _Curiosity and recklessness are not the same thing._

 **Could've fooled me.**

I scrolled through a list of properties that were for sale. With any luck there would be a farm or plot of land around here that was vacant where I could make a stand. I clicked past a couple dozen suburban homes, on the third page there were a couple pictures and a blurb about a ranch house a couple dozen miles outside of town.

Let's see, vacant for six months, on 20 acres, a couple of sheds that were advertised as barns. Winter was on the way, so there wasn't much of a chance for anyone to be buying any time soon. This would do. I took some screenshots of directions to the place, then printed them out. On my way to the printer I dug through my pockets for more change. All I could find were a couple of quarters in a back pocket. I gave a quick glance through the wallet I had tucked into the duffle bag. There was a twenty, a couple of business cards, and a water stain.

I fed the coins to the machine, it whirred and started to spit out my papers.

That ranch was nearly thirty miles away, there was no way a twenty would get me there in a cab. It wasn't too long past noon, but it would still be a ten hour walk. I wasn't about to steal a car, that would attract way too much attention.

I went back to the computer, logged off, then started to tuck the papers back into the duffle bag. The longer I sat around thinking about what to do the less time I had to do it. Without thinking about anything too carefully I left the building. It would be a long walk, and I didn't want to be out too long past dark. I mean, sure the blind dreamer from Chicago probably wouldn't catch up with me in less than a day, hell it had taken it the better part of a year to find me the first time, but I had no idea where the other two could be. With my luck I might run into them traveling east.

 _We should go south, or anywhere else that isn't a dead end._

I didn't bother with a reply, instead opting to walk a little bit quicker down the road. With each step I couldn't help but think about the hallucinations that were brewing just under the surface, I couldn't help but wonder how many people had been hunted down by those things, I couldn't help but shudder knowing that the Walriders effort might be the only thing letting me think and move right now.

I walked on in silence for what felt like forever.

The sun had set hours ago. Of course, that didn't mean much, it was November and the sun was usually gone completely by six. Without the light there was nothing to cut the cold air, and now that I was closing in on my destination there wasn't any traffic to periodically break the silence. The last car I'd seen had been on the highway an hour ago.

The lack of company was probably for the best though.

 _I hope you realize now that we're out here no one will hear you scream when the dreamers show up._

 **No one will be in the way either.**

There was a sigh of static. _Isn't there some Murkoff executive that needs our attention?_

 **We can deal with them later. Besides, I don't think anyone will try to get up to anything soon. That episode in Chicago rattled everyone's cage pretty good.**

I continued walking without getting a response.

It must have been pitch black out being as late as it was, but all the details of the road and the papers I held in my hands stood out as bright as day for me. The house should be at the end of the road I was on now.

Somewhere in the distance there was a hoot from an owl.

A big black outline started to become more defined through the trees.

 **Figure out a way in. It's cold out here.**

A small bit of the swarm drifted from my pores. The wind cut through my coat. If I'm luck I'll find a way in before I freeze to death.

More features became clear as I got closer. The front porch was big enough for a couple of chairs, maybe a bench and a end table too. A two car garage was attached to the rest of the house and sat to the left. The place had two stories and looked spacious enough from the outside. In a better light it would have been picture perfect, though in the middle of the night it's empty blackened windows brought to mind hollow and hungry voids, waiting for some idiot to wander inside.

The house was in luck, the idiot had come to it.

I stepped onto the porch to find a little lock box that would contain the key dangling from the door knob. The little bit of the swarm that left earlier had made short work of the box, it already dangled open, leaving the key ready for me to pick up.

The front door swung open mostly silently, leaving me in the empty living room. The wood floors and freshly painted walls made me wonder why this place hadn't sold in the last six months.

"Hello?" I said to the empty house.

 _I don't know why you're bothering, there's no one here._

"I know that, but it never hurts to make sure" I answer out loud. It wasn't like I was going to get weird looks from anyone out here.

I made my way to the upstairs. The house was cold but still noticeably warmer than outside, the real estate agency must be paying to keep the heat on. I went through a door that lead to what was meant to be a bedroom. Without much ceremony I let my duffle bag slump off my shoulder.

"Well, here's home sweet hole in the ground" I said while unzipping the bag.

 _I'd much rather be on a train to literally anywhere else._

"For the last time, we're doing this. Besides, we left that thing in Chicago, there's no way it'll get this far that fast without a car. There's time to prepare."

 _Or run._

"Drop it" I pulled a towel out from under the cloths that filled most of the duffle bag.

Without comment from the Walrider I tried my best to find a nice spot between the bag and the wall. The towel would have to do for a blanket. Regardless of my attempt at warmth I still shivered slightly from the cold; of all the things the walrider could do, resistance from the cold wasn't one. Lucky me. I'd have to start fortifying this place in the morning. I could start now, seeing in the dark was no problem, but I might freeze if I didn't wait for the sun.

 _You couldn't fortify this place enough if you had a year to prepare._

"You're just a ray of fucking sunshine aren't you?"

 _You're not taking this seriously._

"Aren't I though? If you're that worried about a sneak attack this soon, go take a look around the place or something. It's cold and I'm waiting here until morning."

There was a rash of annoyed static.

 _I can't see them._

"What do you mean by that?"

The irritation in the air grew.

 _That means,_ the tone reminded me of a disapproving aunt scolding a nephew she didn't like much, _that even if I go out there, I can't find them. They're not people, there's no thoughts in their head, there's nothing for me to look for._

Every time I had asked the Walrider to clue me in on these things it'd given vague half answers, though now it sounded like I might be able to coax some information out.

The static hadn't subsided.

It might give me angry I'm-tired-of-your-shit answers, but hey, answers are answers.

"If they're not people, then what are they? Demons like you?"

 _I wish it were that simple._

I waited in the silent dark for a second.

"So if that's not it, what the hell are they? What was going on back there, it felt like you were trying to rip me apart."

The silence hung for a second longer. I hadn't mentioned that the swarm had turned against me at the end of the struggle. My memories from the thing were so scrambled, I only barely remembered it now.

 _There are things out there bigger and more powerful than I. Now there are three of them tracking us down. Maybe they kill me, maybe I get sent back home, I don't know. What I do know is that it's going to hurt, you're not going to survive it, and I've made a nice living space here in your head._

I was almost touched by that last part.

What was there that trumped an ancient demonic spirit? More importantly how had Murkoff gotten those things and then forced them into some poor bastard patients. There couldn't have been a second mad world war two scientist hiding somewhere in the wings. Was this something that could happen again? Was this something that could be brought about accidentally? It couldn't be, no. I had to believe that this shit wouldn't happen unless somebody meant for it to.

 _If you feel like goading me into saying anything else, you should do it now._

"Hold on a second, I didn't realize that you could actually die"

The angry static had nearly faded completely, but seemed to regrow by a fraction.

 _Before you start asking questions that you don't need answered don't forget that I'm still holding back all of those hallucinations from our last encounter with the dreamer._

My stomach churned a little at the memory.

"Fine, I'll watch my mouth, for now. Anyways, I get it, these things are strong, but what can we do about them?"

 _I can't do anything, not with the swarm at least. Attacking their mind would be beyond useless. Even with my help, you're not strong enough to fight them. We can't do anything but run and wait until they die on their own._

"We both know I'm not about to let that happen"

 _You want them dead, they'll be dead._

"Not soon enough, you saw that woman in the car. She died knowing nothing but fear, I can't just let those things wander around."

 _Letting people die in terror, that sounds familiar_

"The Murkoff executives are different." I wasn't like those things, the Walrider needed to stop guilting me into thinking I was.

It stopped talking back, instead deciding to give a static groan.

"I'm fixing the house up when the sun comes out. Like it or not, we're doing this."

For a second I thought I would get to wait out the night in peace, then the same yellow haze from the library grew in the room. The warbling howl filled the empty house, and my innards swirled in place.

I should know better than to think the Walrider is anything other than petty.


	13. House Guest

AN: Hello one again. Just a quick heads up, the story starts earning that M rating in these next couple of chapters, you have been warned. In the mean time please enjoy (and maybe leave a review?) .

***13***

The edges of my vision were still a muddled yellow and most of my innards churned at each step I took. I ignored a whisper that I knew came from nowhere while I barricaded the last window.

 **It's been two weeks, scaring me out of doing this isn't going to work.**

The hallucinations had been near unbearable, I must have sat in that upstairs bedroom for a week before they wore away enough to move without dry heaving.

I hammered a ripped up piece of the front porch into the window frame before giving the whole thing a solid tug. Nothing budged.

Satisfied with my work I went back to the front of the house. I huddled in my jacket against the wind, winter was in full force and thick snow covered the ground. A little bit of it melted and seeped through my boot as I walked. Just as I was about to step up to the front door I couldn't help but notice a dark figure move to my left.

The hallucinations had been dieing down, maybe three days passed since I'd seen someone who wasn't there. The skin on the back of my neck crawled. If I wasn't being hunted by quasi-supernatural creatures I might have assumed it was from the cold or my own imagination.

Before shutting the door I took a final look behind me.

Just at the tree line there were footprints in the snow, they couldn't have been that old, given that it'd been sleeting all morning.

 **Hey, take a look out there. We've got a prowler.**

 _No._

 **What do you mean, no? If one of the dreamers are here I want to get ready.**

 _If it's one of the dreamers it's suicide for me to go out there and you know it._

 **Ok your highness, calm down.**

I retreated inside and locked the door behind me.

 **Either way, get ready for a fight. It's too late to run now.**

 _I know._

The way things had been going I expected an angry grumble of static or some other sort of hijinks, instead the last bit of yellow haze lifted from my vision. Black clouds of swarm poured from my skin and coated the walls, adrenaline surged, it took all the effort I could muster not to break into a sprint to burn off the rush of energy.

The room felt bright and heavy. Outside the wind stirred gently, whistling through the bare branches.

Behind the house fresh snow crunched underneath the weight of a man.

Quietly I grabbed one of the pipes that I'd ripped from under the sink and had waiting on the counter.

The crunching outside stopped.

I felt nothing besides a thick silence. No feeling of being watched reached me, no fluttering of panic like at the courthouse. I turned to see each window in the room.

There was a twitch of movement, I swiveled left just in time to see a withered brown shape dart to the side. I followed the blur as it darted around the house, the swarm ready and waiting, the pipe held tight in my hand.

The thing stopped, I kept turning for just a second after it did, my first mistake.

In the second I wasn't watching it barreled through the window sending shards of glimmering glass and splintered wood in every direction. The swarm followed behind it. In a blink it was on me, faster than it had been in Chicago. I swung with all the pent anticipation of the past half month and made a hard connection to its chest.

The thing fell back into the black cloud landing in a tangle of limbs and a piercing shriek.

I felt the nanobots whip in and out of it, lashing through paper skin and dried bone.

I went forward, ready to swing again.

Before I closed any real distance my head snapped back sending me to the ground, the thick black fog filling the room parted away from the brown and rotting thing as if it were some perverted Moses parting the sea against god's will. Dried and cracking nails dug into what should have been intangible swarm.

With a howl foul enough to draw blood from my ears the thing threw the swarm to the side, propelling it by some force unseen. I slid with the walrider, lading in my own uncoordinated pile.

I scrambled, not wanting to be pinned by the things twisted body a second time.

It rushed me, leaping from floor to wall and back again, impossible to predict where it would be. I swung wildly with the pipe again, bits of swarm ripped into its back on its last leap for me.

I missed but so did it. Like a furious wave the walrider crashed after it, taking a window and most of its frame with it.

Cold winter air filled the room, bringing with it a flurry of snow. The dreamer twisted its knobby shoulders to face me but kept moving forward. Its spidery limbs brought it up the wall, I made a move for it.

If I could just get it to stop moving I would have a chance.

I sent the swarm in front of me. It tangled into the creature's legs and brought it to the floor. I came down on it, pipe in hand.

One more swing and there would be one less monster in the world.

Before the fatal blow landed something hot and at odds with the biting cold ripped into my ankle and pulled my leg from under me. I landed face first and had just enough time to see the blind dreamer come down on top of me.

Thick layers of swarm shielded me, though I still felt the things jagged claws rake into my back through the nanobots. I pulled myself across the floor and twisted my head around for some clue as to where to punch out at.

 _Run_

Not now. Dead fingers raked at my face through the roaring swarm and frantic shrieks.

The protective fog thinned by the second, static warnings of _runrunrunrunrunrunrunrun_ grew fainter and fainter with each repetition.

Every punch I made landed in the empty air, sharp and hot pain raked down my legs. For a second the whole world was a frantic black haze.

"No! God damn it!" with all the adrenaline I could muster from weary muscle I forced the body on top of me away. The swarm blossomed out in a forceful wave. Static raged in my ears, glass shattered, and paint flaked from the drywall.

I wasn't letting this shit happen again! Fuck this thing and everyone who had a part in its bullshit creation, or summoning, or whatever.

Without thinking about it I scooped the pipe off the ground and ran for the thing.

Black haze jutted in front of me like spears before being peeled back from the charge. It didn't matter. Nothing did. I connected with the brown thing before it got its bearings back. Without aid from the Walrider I swung, cracking bone. I swung, ripping ragged skin. I swung, bruising bloodless muscle.

The crippled and broken thing screeched. Maybe it begged for mercy maybe it cursed me, maybe something… I didn't care and swung again. I readied another strike.

 _Runrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrun_

The static was getting quieter now.

The bent and dented pipe didn't come down again. Something new and deeper howled at the room. The broken thing before me twitched and untangled from the ground, defiant at my rage.

Fuck this thing. Fuck the guys that made it.

That deeper howl burrowed into my mind. That unknown, hot, painful grip dug into my shoulders and pulled me from the ground. My feet lifted from the ground, the pipe clattered to the floor. I screamed out, blood seeped through my jacket.

The swarm came back, weaker and more lethargic than I'd ever seen.

I looked up, frantic with pain and -damn it- fear.

Another twisted body, one peppered with throbbing red flesh and black burns, clung to the ceiling and my shoulder with fingers that ended in charred bone.

As it dug deeper I felt struggling bits of swarm furiously knit the flesh back together.

 _Runrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrun_

It was barely a whisper now in the deafening room. The house must be on the verge of collapse between the missing chunks of wall and the force of the howling. My own screams joined the roil when the broken thing on the ground climbed up my legs and clung to my chest.

Don't look at it.

I'm not sure if those were my own thoughts or a memory from Chicago.

The shriveled brown thing pulled closer, its putrid breath filled my nose and lungs. I fought to flail, though every movement brought hungry claws deeper into my straining body. I looked away, there had to be an escape. Something.

Anything.

There.

Through a hole that used to be a window was the tiniest amount of movement. Something gray and moving with jerked movements.

I tried to focus on the last bit of swarm that was out there. If I had to, I'd fight these things for it. That was my only hope now.

Trying to drown out the pain and fear I reached for the swarm, it came closer, inch by inch.

As it trailed into the room something came with it.

Something gray and marred by puss green patches of wet rot. Something twisted and hungry as the other two things that already held me like a fly trapped in a spiders web.

I twisted in pain.

There was no static urging me to run now. Nothing worked to knit bone and blood back together under the dreamers grips.

The third thing pulled gray haze from under my skin, every particle protested and ripped straining sinew on its way out. I felt my throat strain under a scream but no sound I made rose above these things howls and shrieks.

The third thing crawled up my back.

I'd done it now. I should have listened.

Familiar swarms ripped through me, bringing none of the reassuring weight I'd learned to recognize as safe.

I landed heavy on the cold ground, three twisted bodies piled over me. I fought to look anywhere but at them, anywhere but the haze that meant nothing but fear and pain once again.

A shoulder popped from its socket, fire trailed through me. In a storm of pain I felt hot and thick blood drip from my eyes.

Look anywhere else.

Anywhere else.

They came closer, eyes covered in rags or leaking wounds.

Everything was them.

I closed my eyes.

Everything was them.


	14. A Trip Down Memory Lane

AN: Happy Friday guys, just wanted to give a shout out to Warden of Lore for reviewing, thanks (and to anyone reading, you're cool too). Anyways, be warned there is some major gore/disturbing things in here so please enjoy:

***14***

The gravel crunched under the tires of my jeep. Before I put the car in park the heavy iron gate to the asylum creaked shut behind me. I idled for a second and read an email I'd printed out before coming. Outside was darker than I thought it would be, I should have known better than to come this late in the day, especially in November. The sun always set quickly in the mountains, though if I hadn't gotten lost on my way up I'd of been here an hour ago with plenty of light to see by.

I twisted the key from the ignition, the headlights shut off leaving nothing but dying sunlight and a glow from a too-dim lamp.

The weight of my camcorder was reassuring in my hand as I walked up to the empty guards station. Shouldn't there be someone here? I glanced back at the gate, was that thing on a timer?

Shrugging off my questions I passed through another gate. I lifted the camera to get a full shot of the asylum. It was a grim giant, with its gray stone exterior having a stark silhouette against a gray and gold sky. A flicker of motion on a third floor window caught my eye. A light came on, a man ran passed, followed by something fast and thin that was impossible to make out.

I scribbled some words into a notebook I'd brought along.

I went to the front door.

Military trucks littered the front drive, strange. They all sat empty with doors locked tight. I made sure to get a good shot of them to reference later; what had happened that they needed so much more security but hadn't bothered to post anyone outside?

I knocked on the door and waited. Nothing stirred inside, telling from the sound. I spent a minute or two trying to peer through more windows though nothing came of it.

Well, there's no sense in coming all the way out here and then turning tale at the first problem.

I walked around to the side of the building, it looked like I'd just have to get creative to find a way in. I was in luck, it didn't take long to find a hole in the fence. With a quick look over my shoulder I ducked through it. Moving quickly I considered a bunch of scaffolding next to a window for a whole two seconds before climbing my way up it.

Ok Murkoff, lets see what you've been hiding up here.

With my camera at the ready I pulled myself through a window. Just before I had the chance to get a good look at the room lights flickered and then popped, raining sparks down before dropping the room into darkness.

Well shit.

I toggled to the night vision setting.

Good thing I did, there was a pile of twisted furniture in the middle of the room that I would have walked straight into. I sidestepped it and went to the door, wondering about the weird choice of interior decorating. Had this room been abandoned?

The hall way beyond was no better, being blocked by a mesh metal door on one end and a mess of book shelves on the other. Come on guys, you're supposed to be corrupt corporation, shouldn't there be -oh I don't know- office workers in your offices? I lifted the camera and zoom in down the hall, a bright splash of red trailed across the ground.

Bingo, I knew there was something going on around here. These bastards were going to have some explaining to do.

I stepped into the room across the hall. This one wasn't a complete mess, the lights even stayed on as I walked in. I gave a quick glance, there didn't seem to be anything damning. I turned to leave in search of something useful.

Halfway to the door something screamed to my left. In a jolt of panic I jumped to the side and flailed wildly to look for the source. The room was empty but a white noise, something like static, still filled the air.

I felt like an idiot when I noticed that a TV hung on the wall, its screen filled with snow that said it wasn't getting any signal. I must have stepped on the remote. With a calming breath I made to leave once again. As I took a step I swore I heard someone speak.

"D…."

I stopped.

"Do….."

I strained to hear through the noise of the TV

"Look….d"

There was no one here, but damn if I wasn't hearing something. Maybe the TV was picking up a little bit of a signal?

Trying my best to get back on track I stepped into the hall. From here I was able to confirm what I already suspected. The red smear was blood. Under the flickering lights I saw that the walls might as well have been painted in the stuff. Jesus, what were they doing here? I went through the hall checking each room for some sign of life. There had to be workers here.

I found no one and nothing more than a patient file.

By the time I got to a dead end my boots left bloody footprints behind me and I couldn't shake the sense that I was being followed. I swallowed my paranoia. I had left an empty hall and a dead end behind me, there was nothing there.

I reassured myself with a glance over my shoulder.

Something fast and tall ducked into a side office.

Fuck.

I took a step into a break room and calmly slammed the door shut before franticly looking for a way out. The door rattled on its hinges behind me, whatever it was beat at it hard enough to shake the room and set my pulse fast enough to make my vision throb in time with my heart beat.

The frame splintered, jagged nails clawed through growing cracks.

There was duct work above a brake table. With no other options I scrambled for the vent. I heaved myself up, barely managing to slid my legs inside before the last of the straining wood gave way. With a crash that ripped the breath from my lungs something long and twisted flung itself into the room. From my spot in the vent I looked through a grate to watch it pace in circles. After it didn't find me it started to whine and scratch at the empty room.

What the fuck was that thing? I raised my camera to get a recording of it.

It slid across the room, long limbs seemed to drag it more than let it walk from one spot to another. It seemed starved and little more than a walking skeleton. I had been holding my breath in my hiding spot; I only noticed when I had to breath in but the thing reeked to high heaven. Bits of rot clung to it, leaking puss and weeping infection from every joint on its body. I zoomed in on it, I couldn't tell, but there could have been scraps of fabric clinging to it, or maybe not? Was that just more dead skin? It was all the same putrid gray shade.

While I watched it's screeching picked up in volume.

I forced myself to tuck the camera away and crawl on, I didn't want this thing to follow me up here. The vent ended in another grate that was already knocked loose from the wall. Trying to be as quiet as possible I dropped to the ground. I was on a walk way that looked down over the lobby.

The whole place was a goddamn mess. I made sure to get a good shot of it all. Dead bodies littered the ground and blood ranging from fresh red to an aging brown painted the walls. Had someone written something over there? I couldn't tell through the glass.

At this rate I wasn't going to find anyone worth talking to, and I'd gotten enough footage to crucify whoever was running this place, probably enough to bring hell down on Murkoff as a whole too.

I looked back at the vent.

I wasn't going back that way.

The ends of the walkway were blocked off with more piled furniture. Had people been barricading the halls? With more questions than answers I turned to open the door that was labeled library. The door swung open with a creak revealing a gaping black hole.

I lifted the camcorder and toggled it to night vision. I was going to run out of power for the thing at this rate.

I didn't have time to lift it level with my eye before something came barreling out of the room and slammed into my chest. I was left without the breath for even a surprised yell. Some other thing, hot and with charred skin pushed into me as I flailed back. It ripped at my shoulders and knocked me through the glass that separated the walkway from the floor below. The clear material gave way like it'd been made of tissue paper and I plummeted to the unforgiving ground. I landed with a thud, shards of broken glass digging into my back through the leather of my jacket.

Before I took a breath the burnt thing crashed onto me. Hot fingers, hard with charred and exposed bone clawed at my face. I struggled and swatted at the thing in vein. My back stretched and strained at each movement, I had to have dislocated a shoulder for all the hell it was giving me.

My vision of the struggle was confused and blurred. A limb here, pain there, something glinting white and sharp. I kicked out, glass ripped at the small of my back. The beast pull me to the side as it fell. My skin under its hands burned with pain while every other thread of muscle seemed to smolder with an angry ache.

For a second I felt no weight pushing me down, I stumbled upwards and made to sprint for my life.

Less than a step in and I was barreling back to the ground. Hot claws shredded the battered and bruised flesh of my back. I clawed forward desperate to be anywhere but here.

Run damn it! Run!

I couldn't see the thing. It ate at me. I would have screamed if I could focus enough to breath. Hot bone scraped against my own. The sinew of my back gave way, my arm stopped moving and brought a new wave of agony that I never thought possible. I swung with my leg hitting nothing but air.

Live. Just live.

The fire through my nerves couldn't tell me what was where, just that this was the end.

I couldn't breath. That feeling of death burst through my chest. I couldn't breath, the air in my lungs replaced by fiery blood. The thing on my back dug deeper.

Just end it already.

In a hellish lifetime that couldn't have lasted more than a second the beast shredded organs and shattered bone.

The world went black. I stood up. Blood and flesh and bile and who knows what else fell from my back with a fresh wave of agony.

Was I dead?

I swayed in place, the black around me twisted into cruel imitations of the world that I used to know, a gray tree grew out of a heavy sky, I found charred ground beneath my feet. A howl that shook something deep and primal carried itself on wind. The sound clung to the air next to a heavy greasy scent that could only have been that of burning rotted flesh.

I moved without deciding a direction. Heavy limbs carried me, leaving slivers of muscle and pools of blood in my wake. A street formed around me, like some suburb that had pissed off a volcano at midnight every new detail had to be picked out from under a layer of heavy ash.

I ducked behind a parked car that looked like it lost a fight with a grenade. Every breath was gurgled and wet, I felt the air for it being drawn through the mangled sponge of exposed lung that began where the remains of my back ended. This had to be some layer of hell. Sticky red spit came up with each labored breath, I searched for the monster behind the howl.

With my one working arm I ripped the soot covered rear view from the car. I wiped the black onto my ruined jacket and used the dingy mirror to get a look of the street.

Nothing to the left, nothing to the right. Nothing behind me either. I leaned against the car, the surface hot enough to sear my raw flesh. I smelt myself cook before getting the chance to pull away. That new agony sent me stumbling forward. The howling drew closer, my head whipped around in a panic to find the source.

Nothing to my left, nothing to my right.

Behind me was some shadowy creature, rushing for me with a grating sound, like something a pig would hear just before being slaughtered. I rushed to get a grip and flailed forward. The creature of shadow and dust caught me before I made it to standing.

Run!

I scrambled again, the bones in my body twisted and popped. For a second my vision warped itself again, a new sensation twisted through me. The heat of the world around me gave way to something cold and sharp, I could move my ripped shoulder once again and the organs had stopped leaking from my back. Without twisting around to see it the shadow was still there I made a break for some other hiding spot.

The howling could have been coming from my own head when I dove behind dead and twiggy bushes. I laid flat on the ground, taking in the ability to focus on the blisters forming from the skillet like ground now that my organs were back on the inside.

From my spot in the ash I saw the thing hobbling over molten asphalt. Skin was burnt and cracking in a way that made it look like brunt armour more than anything that could have been alive. Between the charcoaled skin was cindered and throbbing muscle. Occasionally blood or pus broke the surface and trickled into a pool of the same that was already drying into some new horrifying plate.

The beast howled again. It's face could have been human, under the throbbing muscle and broiled skin. The nose was gone, lips nothing but a memory, ears shriveled to black nubs. It had no eyes. Black craters that could have lead to the center of the earth for how deep and dark they were claimed the lion's share of its head.

I huddled deeper into my spot.

Run!

Down the street sharp metallic noises spilt through the beast's howl drawing it away from my sad excuse of a hiding spot.

Was some other poor bastard trapped here? I stood up again.

Oh well, he's not my problem.

I searched for somewhere better, somewhere not so exposed.

Without hoping for much I tried the nearest front door. The dry and brittle wood swung open with nothing more than a tired groan.

The windows of the place were as blank and hungry as the rest of the street, through the opening door lead to somewhere blinding bright and cold. For a second I couldn't help but stand in confusion. The only thing to jolt me from that blissful surprise was the death of the grinding metal and the return of that warbling howl.

Without a second glance I stepped through the door and slammed it shut behind me.

The other side was warm and welcoming. Gentle sunlight drifted through the large window that faced the street; the haunting howl didn't carry through the walls. The door was solid and painted white, not shriveled and nearly in splinters like it'd been from the outside.

I didn't dare question it.

I didn't dare call out hello. That thing could be out there listening. Where was I? Dead?

Maybe.

I took a step away from the door and glanced out the window. It was the same street, now placid and bathed in a pleasant light that gave everything a sharp edge. I put a hand against the glass. It was cool to the touch. Was it fall out there? Everything was green or blooming. Early spring?

I took a step away.

My jacket hung in tatters over my shoulder, though there was smooth skin beneath.

I went to the kitchen that was separated from the living room by a counter with barstools at it. A sewing kit sat by one of the chairs

That's odd.

Leaving the kitchen I walked down a little side hall. There were no windows but it was filled with the same clean light as the living room. I took a step into it.

The last door to the left slammed shut.

I learned my lesson last time. I left the hall and went back to the kitchen. There was no way in hell I was walking outside again. Sure it looked fine, but I wasn't about to believing everything I saw now. Instead I pulled a knife from a little cutting block in the corner of the room.

I took a step back down the hall.

Come out to play you overcooked piece of shit.

As I walked down the corridor I swung open each door I passed; I didn't need to have something sneaking up behind me now. The first room on the right had a bed and desk in it and was plastered in sports posters and equipment that was just disheveled enough to say that someone played with it regularly. The door to my left was empty too, like the last one it could have been a kids bedroom although it was a bit cleaner, like someone had been straightening up but stopped before getting to the other room. I passed a home office, a guest bathroom; both were devoid of life.

I stopped short of the last door, readjusting my grip on the knife. A last glance over my shoulder told me nothing had followed. The hall sat still bathed in it's cool and crisp light, a couple of dust nodes drifted gently to the ground, occasionally twinkling to silver as they fell.

Maybe I would get lucky and nothing would be on the other side.

As quietly as I could manage I sent the door swinging on its hinges.

With muscled tensed I peered into the room.

There was nothing there.

Nothing living and ready to jump out at me. No cool light. Nothing at all, not even a room.

I dropped my guard and stood looking at the black void that did nothing but look back.

I would have shut the door and gone back down the hall but the door disappeared when it swung open and the hall was busy being consumed by the the cold light that had seemed so gentle just a minute ago.

For a second I stood, wondering what to do next. The dark beyond the door sat unmoving but the blinding white of the hall came closer, bringing with it something cold and sharp. An angry wind swept the hall. With my jacket in shreds I shivered under it. Dagger like shards of ice and snow burst from the white and dug into the skin of my face.

Move or die.

I took one last second before seeing something thin and hollow move in the white. Some twisted shape crouching in the silent wind.

Move.

Against the frozen tornado of wind I tumble into the void.

I could have fallen into it, or maybe I landed on solid ground from the beginning. Who knows. I didn't take the time to wonder before sprinting from the growing glow that was coming from the door frame that I had just stumbled through.

There was still no sound here, nothing from the wind or my own heavy foot falls. Not even the sound of my breathing found its way through the void.

I must have run for miles before the last of the sharp light faded behind me. I shambled to a stop, my limbs heavy with fatigue. Where the hell was I now? Nothing rose from the dark. I struggled to calm my breathing; it could have taken me a second or a year, there was no sense of time here, but eventually I did it.

With nothing else to do I took a step in the nothing.

A scream shattered the silence. My head whipped around, a leg sank into the ground that wasn't there.

Shit! I said it but no sound came from my throat. The scream hung in the air, I fought to pull myself from the ground. The black around me became a thick tar; every movement I made did nothing but push me further into it, every frantic movement only brought more force down on me. I struggled like a fly in glue, the free leg came to rest twisted into some space away from the first, my shoulders and head followed an arm through the ground.

The screaming grew though my ears had to be covered by the floor. I gasped from breath from under the panic, still I heard nothing from my own struggles.

If there was gravity here it shifted. I was in the floor no longer, instead I was held upright as if in a wall.

The screaming morphed into words, dry and raspy as though the throat that made them was raw and bleeding.

"No! No, not again! Nonononononononononononono-"

They stopped, cut in half by another scream, different from the first. More voices came to shriek in chorus. Sometimes a word or two would stand out against the roil.

"God help me-"

"I didn't do-"

"Stop! Please!"

Men, women, there were sounds from both. I did all I could to struggle against the void that held me. The dark parted ever so sightly. I could see them moving now, the screaming people. They scattered in the shadows, some crawled on bloodied nubs that used to be arms or legs. The ones standing tripped over spilling organs and slipped on their own sickly green bile. I saw a man, missing his hand and swatting at the air around him. He looked at me and screamed, just loud enough to rise over the other voices. The darkness around the man swelled, something within it or maybe even the void itself distorted to slice into him. More severed limbs dropped to the ground to join the putrefying mound of flesh. The rest of his body ripped to gory shreds before being carried away by the dark currents of the void.

Rinse and repeat something out there ate away the dead and dieing, pulling each strand of flesh from its bone and letting what remained to rain back down in a horrifying slurry.

The screaming went on. Whenever some soul was ripped to shreds the body came shambling back from some dark corner, made whole again by whatever rules governed this place. There had to be twenty, thirty, maybe even forty screaming corpses down there at a time, being slaughtered and summoned back for another bout of agony.

"Make it stop!"

"Why?!"

"I'm sorry!"

The same black force that mangled those below forced me to watch. My head was held still, something dark and primal that came from nowhere held my gaze steady on the massacre.

Some new dead man came to the center of the slaughter.

He had more narrow shoulders and pale graying skin, like all the blood that coated the ground could have come from him alone. The void didn't twist to consume the man where he stood, he did not suffer from the same hungry force that the others did. He didn't even scream in terror or pain.

How long had that man been here?

The storm of death raged around this unmoving man. He had three wounds, small and old things. They seemed more like something from a gun or knife than whatever this place was. Were they closer now? Was this how it ended for me? Was I getting thrown in, just another victim of whatever this place was?

The man seemed so much closer now. He had pale blue eyes, reddened as if he'd been sobbing for a lifetime. I could smell the copper tinge of blood, the sharp angry scent of bile, the ammonia of stale piss.

My shoulder popped from its socket, the force of the wall pulled too hard in too many directions. I yelped but only heard the growing screams.

The man was just a yard from me now, the flurry of death swirled around the both of us.

Did I know this man?

Someone dead or dieing fell in a mangled heap between us.

Did I know him?

"That project failed!"

A woman bellowed somewhere behind be.

Did I know her?

Piles of quivering flesh fell to my every side. There couldn't have been any actual wall keeping me in place because there was nothing stopping strands of torn muscle or the rain of blood from splattering against me.

The crying man looked at me, then moved his gaze away, like someone who was trying to forget an old memory. I didn't have long to dwell on it before another voice rose above the screams.

"It was him!"

My head couldn't move to see the man who yelled. Something ripped into my thigh, the mood of the floor shifted from fear to rage. The people behind the crying man started shuffling with a purpose towards me. The void still twisted to rip into them, sending a slurry of organs spilling from ripped torsos. The few who didn't turn to mush slopped past the crying man. Torn bodies clawed at my own.

"You!" a barking groan came to my left. The skin of my arm split underneath jagged bone.

"Killed me…" someone wheezed from behind me.

More shambling corpses dug into me. Brittle bones slivered into straining sinew. Tendons snapped and more joints were pushed from their sockets under the weight of these angry things.

I had to be screaming - howling in agony- but the only thing to reach my ears were their words

"Because of you!" "Bastard" "Die damn it!"

They were closing in on me. I could see the edges of the movement at the corner of my eye. The crying man still looked numbly at the floor.

I knew these people. A memory came burning back with every fibre of flesh that gave way under the assault. A man fell in front of me again. The dark twisting into his back and pulling the spine free from him.

I knew him. He was the first Murkoff executive I killed. It was ten o'clock at night and he had just turned the news off and was getting ready for bed. He brushed his teeth and let the dog back in from outside. He went to the kitchen for a glass of water when I came through the window. He didn't know who I was or why I was there. He didn't have the time to ask before I had used the swarm to slice his belly open and sent his guts tumbling to the floor.

His little dog was barking the whole time, some kind of terrier mix. It hid under the couch when I turned his lungs into a slurry while they were still in his chest.

How powerful I'd felt then. Ready to take on the world that had wronged me and so many others. Now here I was being ripped to shreds by all of those terrible people.

Somebody came running in from the dark behind the crying man.

I remembered him. Some time a couple of months ago I had let myself into his house through the garage -they never locked the garage door. I'd picked my way past his kids bikes and the families camping equipment and stalked through the kitchen to his bedroom. He went quietly, with the swarm melting through skin, body, and bone. The man lasted all of a minuet before nothing solid remained and the bed was soaked in gory globs of red and white and brown. His wife was next him. She would wake up to a putrefying smear that used to be her husband.

I had patted myself on the back for not waking her up.

I remembered it all.

This isn't real. Couldn't be real. The dreamers were still out there somewhere. Ripping me to shreds in Iowa. Where was I know? My own head? Their minds? Was this just another elaborate hallucination?

I saw a woman crawling over her fallen co-workers.

She died half a year ago. It was a Thursday afternoon, she had just gotten back from a date at a little cafe and was chatting on the phone about it. I waited until she got out of her car and walked up the driveway to go inside. First thing I did was cut her legs out from under her. The phone went tumbling across the ground and the rest of her fell after it. She started screaming, I used the swarm to rip her throat out. It split lengthwise, the trachea stretching away from the esophagus an inch or so before the skin gave way and a flood of arterial blood gushed from the wound. I left her making wet gasps for air on the pavement.

It was sunny and I still remember the sight and sound of the cracked phone on the ground.

"Ashley? Ashley!?" The contact read mom.

I'd been so in the right, these weren't people, not anymore. They looked the part with their faces filled with rage and fear as they ripped me to shreds in the dark. But they were monsters and I had brought them to justice. They couldn't have really been here, no. This wasn't some place where the dead roamed; this had to be some trick by the dreamers. Maybe even by the Walrider too.

More groaning creatures bit away at me, pulling organs from their places and digging their hands into the remains.

To think just a month ago I had slaughtered ten of them at a time. It'd been an overcast summer day and maybe a dozen of them had clumped together for the funeral of another monster I had rid the world of. A few tears were shed for the fallen, but they couldn't have been real, not after they had caused so much misery and so many other deaths. They didn't deserve to mourn.

I let a thin cloud of swarm engulf the group. The floating gray blended in with the wet air and none of them knew what was happening when it began peeling back layers of skin and biting into slick muscle below. They screamed and tumbled in the swarm. It didn't matter. They were in a cemetery, a place for the dead, no one was there to save them. The group danced in the swarm for a not-long-enough time before the little beads of metal flayed the muscle they needed to move or scrambled their insides. I don't know which came first, but all ten of them laid unmoving on the ground by the time I left.

That was such a good day.

Bony remains of finger gouged at my eyes. The last thing to flash before me was the crying man, was that Waylon? Before the thought finished crossing my mind the ragged jerking at my limbs flashed to a stop. The void split apart into some new layer of abyss dragging me along with it. The howling of the dead chased after me, wheather in angry of my escape or in their own agony I had no idea.

Good, let them rot here. If I die, at least I took them with me.


	15. Teamwork Makes the Dream Work

AN: Welp, I hope Friday wasn't too rough on anyone because it's time for round two. (To the surprise of absolutely nobody, there's some gore in this chapter too, you have been warned). Please enjoy,

***15***

Tendrils of organ and flesh knitted themselves back together while the emptiness that greeted me twisted into something still-dark but with form. I fought to breath and found nothing but putrid, bitter water. With my lungs filled I struggled someway that I hopped was up. After some eternity my head broke the surface and I gasped for air.

The void was gone, replaced with something halfway between a sewer and a swamp. Molded plants wove their way over rusted pipes and dripped more stinking liquid into the green pool that I floated in. Something brushed my leg, without taking too long to think about it I paddled to the closest thing resembling dry land.

The ground was a saturated gray muck, I didn't get to standing before my lag sank halfway to my knee.

Well shit. At least I was back in once piece after the horde from wherever that last place was. I took another look around. The dreamers are probably still after me, the memory of one of them clinging to the ceiling and lifting me with withered hands burned bright in my mind. Correction, the dreamers already got me, this isn't real and I need to get away.

I slopped my way through the muck, trying my best to ignore the smell and find somewhere dryer. I'd never admit it, but the Walrider was right. The things were too strong and I'd been an idiot. I tried to reach out to the Walrider, though I couldn't find a trace of its presence to save my life.

Ok, calm down. It's probably just out of reach because it's fighting the dreamers. The dark expanse reminded me of our very first chat in my stolen car where I first saw Waylon. The dark hadn't been so friendly this time. Was it still fighting, or had the Walrider already lost?

I scrambled onto a rock.

No time to worry about that now.

I took another look from my vantage point. The rotted remains of some flowers still sat on a damp green vine intertwined in the pipes overhead. There were no walls that I could see, a mossy gray mist clung to the air that cut visibility to less than, what, twenty feet? Ten?

A couple of bubbles surfaced from the muck.

I slid back into the thick water. It got up to my neck before I started swimming. I had to move, the dreamers were still out there somewhere. Something brushed past me. The water was gray and green and covered in sickly algae, I swam faster. A piece of pipe sat just above the water line at the edge of visibility. Whatever was down there slid against my hip.

That last touch was enough for me. Giving into the panic I sent water splashing in every direction as I paddled away.

I was nearly to the pipe when the thing below the surface wrapped a weedy hand around my ankle. It pulled down just as my hand landed on the slickened metal. One more second was all I needed.

I didn't get it.

Before gulping down a breath of stale air I was in the dark muck once again. I would have yelped in surprise but instead the foul water rushed into my mouth and lungs. I opened my eyes only to have the dust and shit in the water sting and force them shut again. Blind and without breath I struggled to the top again. The hand in the deep slit my side open. The wound stung and seeped but the thing lost its grip and I broke the surface of the water in a terrified flurry. My head hit the pipe and my muscles protested, the weight of past wounds- though healed- catching up to me. Coughing up bile and gray water I clung to the rusted iron. The thing in the water ripped at my legs.

It had to be a dreamer.

I'd let these things catch me so I could face the on my own terms. Well here I was damn it, and I'm not going without a fight. With the weight of the dreamer and the water pulling me down I forced myself onto the cold steel. My bleeding side made the climb that much harder, but I kept going. I felt my left leg being turned into glorified hamburger. As more of me broke the surface the sounds of splashing and occasional drips gave way to a sickly moan. I twisted onto my back, still struggling to cling to the pipe.

There it was. Another gangly and rotted thing tearing at me, fighting to drag me back to the murky depths. With my free leg I kicked at it. I landed one hit before a gangrened hand caught it and the thing strengthened its grip. It opened its festering mouth, black rot coated its teeth, another ageless moan tried to escape but was blocked by a mouthful of my own flesh.

A strangled yell escaped me, though like every other time I made a sound; it never reached my ears. I couldn't afford to spare an arm to beat the thing away, I needed the both of them to hold myself on solid ground. Desperate I rolled to the side. The dreamer held tight despite getting knocked against the hard metal. Back on my stomach I inched forward away from the water's edge. I made it a whole six inches before the dreamer crawled up a mangled leg and ripped at my sides again. With a new rip my left side spasmed and twitched. With no say my arm lost its strength and I tumbled back to the stinking water.

In its element the dreamer clawed over me and made it to my face. Fighting blind again I made for the surface. Without the use of an arm or either leg I didn't go anywhere but where the dreamer wanted. The mushed flesh of its hands pushed through the rip in my side. It twisted itself into my guts. The pain and lack of breath conspired with the dreamer. More of me lost the strength to go on. The wet and putrid parts of the dreamer dug deeper. I gasped for breath finding only festering filth to fill my lungs.

More of the creature twisted into me, a dead hand gripped my beating heart and squeezed.

The fight for one last breath wound to an end, one by one more limbs became heavy in the sludge and refused to move. I opened my eyes as one last act of defiance, expecting to only find more stinging black water.

The lab that I found instead was a stark white and blue. The hard lines of instrumentation that stood in front of me were warped and twisted through the water and curved glass that separated me from them. I gasped and found air despite the clear liquid. I gasped again, some tube, maybe it was plastic, forced its way down my throat. I fought the sensation of choking but gasped for breath three or four more times before the rest of my body checked in. More tubes threaded through my veins and deep into my organs. I couldn't move my head much for how stiff the ones forced into my neck were, but I saw the room around me for what it was clear enough.

The metal stairs to my right, the door at the edge of the room, the giant orb in the middle of it all.

The morphogenic engine. Where it had all started.

I would have slipped into a painful memory if I weren't distracted by the shape that moved in front of my sphere.

A man, early 40's, dull brown hair, a matching brown jacket that was tattered and torn, an abused white shirt, and ruined boots.

He had a beaten and battered camera in his hand.

Shit.

He rushed forward and slammed shredded hands onto the control panel under the orb. An instant later he swirled around and lifted to the camera to eye level. I remembered what happened next before the tubes shook themselves apart in my veins. Bright red blood clouded the clear fluid around me when sound started to shake my little chamber.

Pain like a thousand little needles rippled through my skin. Strands of muscle trembled with some energy that had to be from the machine that filled the room.

In wordless agony I watched the man with a camera get blind sided by the thing that had been hunting him all that night.

Three spindly bodies ripped into the me outside the orb.

I watched the massacre from third person, feeling each attack happen. Having every blow magnified by memory and machine. I shouldn't have lasted more than a second with limbs being torn from each other but from my place in the orb the spectacle lasted a lifetime.

It was getting cold in my liquid coffin. The not-air around me grew redder by the second. The me outside the orb lost a leg. Was I screaming? I had been all night, I probably was now too.

It was getting cold. More bright.

What hell was I going to now?

The three dreamers squabble over the broken man at their feet. The burnt thing lashed out that the dry husk that attacked me in Chicago. The gangrened creature made to bite into my chest before the other two turned on it.

They all became a crumbled figured in the cold red around me.

They still moved ever so slightly through the murk. I thought my body had become sludge when some pain, sharp and real, cut at my back.

What hell would I find now?

The red drifted into black but the cold around my grew to what felt like a cutting blade made of ice. The sting reached deep through my arms, one of them wouldn't move.

The scene was gone now. Was this another trip to the void? Were there more memories of the dead ready to rip into me here? I stood up, finding solid ground and new agony. The howl of wind filled the darkness around me. My left leg twisted and threatened to give out with each new step. Every foot fall was greeted with the crunch ice or snow. My left arm still refused to move.

They still had to be out there somewhere. I heard nothing except for the empty wind, but the shrieks and howls of those things couldn't be far off. In a wild panic I picked a direction and struggle to run.

Maybe five feet later I fell and landed on cold and soft ground. Sharp shards of agony bit into my back and little drops of frost soaked into my limbs. The one working arm I had clawed through the melting ground to push my body up. Raw and exposed slivers of muscle in my back strained and protested against the movement.

Those things have to be out there. I don't have time to stop because of some shitty little aches and scratches!

I had forced my broken body to my feet by the time I heard ragged moans and shrieks drift over the weary air. Half falling I ran headlong into the stinging dark. My limbs locked up in the cold, but fear and the promise of another death sentence kept me stumbling. I should have been bleeding but frost clotted the fluids as they seeped to the surface. The sounds that signaled the dreamers faded from the edge of hearing, the adrenaline that forced me into motion vanished with them.

With uneven gasps and freezing limbs I fell in exhaustion to the cold ground. Only my ragged breathing kept me company now.

I rested in the icy dark.

I took a second to focus on my breathing.

My breathing that I could hear.

I could hear myself.

Shit, I could hear myself. Was I out? I had to be. I forced myself from the snow and wobbled onto two legs again. Was the walrider there?

 **Hello?**

Nothing stirred in the corners of my mind.

 **Hello?**

The wind picked up slightly and carried a wavering howl with it. A new wave of adrenaline forced my frozen and tattered muscles to start moving again. I stumbled over uneven ground that I couldn't even see.

Of course I had to wake up in the middle of the fucking night.

The crashing of the dreamers through the trees grew louder, my twisted legs did all they could to carry me anywhere but here. The snow came to my knees and slowed each step. I had just gotten used to the impossible conditions where the ground flattened and became solid again. The wild hunt came closer bringing with it a distant grumble. I had just enough time to face the shrieking dark before a hard body sent me clattering to the ground. Still fresh wounds split again, the ice that had frozen them together splintering under the shrieking beast.

The ground shook more and a deafening horn split the air.

The weight lifted off of me only to be replaced by a bone breaking blow to my right. For a second the world was nothing but pain and sound and black again, below it all the skittering of papery bone on pavement disappeared to some far away place.

"Oh my God, Ruth! Call 911!"

I stayed on my place on the ground. Fresh blood leaked from the re-ripped wounds, the last surge of adrenaline faded just as fast as it had appeared.

"Sir? Sir!" A man's voice grew frantic and distant.

The cold of the pavement dug its claws into my throbbing body.

I think I heard a "stay with me" before the sounds around me swirled into the nothingness that plagued my eyes.

My breath rattled. My head swam. Every inch of me screamed for relief. I would have stood but I was too heavy. The inky black swirled, swallowing the sounds and sensations of the the world until nothing remained.


	16. Wake Up Call

AN: Hello once again, the last couple of chapters have been pretty rough, so here's a long chapter for your trouble. In the mean time, I hope everyone has a nice day.

***16***

I woke up to the same unyielding dark that had been there when I checked out. The first thing to hit me was a thousand angry aches and stings from my back and shoulders. I would have tried to move and get a look at what was keeping me down this time, but my left leg was being held still by something stiff that surrounded it.

Trying my best to ignore the pain that covered me like a blanket I couldn't help but notice that there was an actual blanket on me. Like the surface I was laying on it was too stiff to be soft and seemed to be half plastic from how loudly it wrinkled from my twitching movements.

Ok, lets think about this.

I was awake. Or at least I think I am. Well, I'm not being hunted down by anything or being ripped limb from limb, so thats a good sign. I'd made a break for it, got tackled. Then what? There was a rumble and voices? Memories came trickling in along with more details of my surroundings.

A machine hummed to my left and gave an occasional beep. I was laying on my stomach on some rough sheets. Was that a TV talking in the background, or the murmur of conversation? I tried to rise again, the weight of my body was enough to keep me down.

 **Hello?**

Just like last time there was no response.

I fucked it up real good this time.

 **Hello?**

I knew better than to expect a responce, but that didn't stop me from trying.

 **You were right. The dreamers won.**

Nothing.

The dreamers had won. It was three on one and I'd been an idiot. I should have listened to the Walrider and just let them wither away.

No. That's bull shit. I did the right thing. I just have to get up and finish the job.

My flayed back spasmed at the thought of movement from underneath a layer of bandages. Looks like moving isn't an option. Without having much of a plan I called out to whoever might listen.

"Hello?" the word came out more quietly than I had meant, being bogged down with thick spit and having to make its way over strained vocal cords.

A cough rattled its way out of me before I had the chance to say anything else.

It didn't matter much though, not long after I spoke a I heard a door open and shut lightly from somewhere behind me.

"Who are you?" I made myself speak before they did. With my luck I was still in a hallucination and this was just the preamble to getting murdered again, I might as well make it last.

Light footsteps walked to my side.

"How are you feeling?" A youngish sounding woman's voice came out of the dark.

Everything ached, my back throbbed again, both legs could have been turned to jelly for all I knew, most of my organs were bruised and had tried to take a vacation to the outside of me. I bit down a sarcastic comment.

Think silver linings, at least my left arm isn't in hilarious amounts of pain. I took everything in and answered simply.

"Bad."

The ladies voice hummed in acknowledgement.

"You're bandages are holding up well." she said softly.

I'd had a few too many brushes with death in the past month to let my guard down. I tensed up at the sound of her coming closer, it took all I had not to wince from the having my frayed muscles pull at one another. The woman apparently noticed, and drew back a little.

"It's ok. I'm going to go get Dr. Sutton. She will be here in a couple of minuets."

The girl hung around for a second or two, waiting to hear an acknowledgement that never came. Eventually I heard her light foot steps leave the room and the door click shut behind her.

Another hospital, or doctors office? I needed to stop waking up in strange places after getting the shit beat out of me. I tried to move again, only for nothing to respond.

Could I get some decent lighting in here? Were there bandages on my face or something? I couldn't see a damned thing. Asking the Walrider for information now would be useless, it was probably dead- or whatever passed for it- back in that house off the highway.

God I was stupid. It said we would lose and here I am.

Shit, now the dreamers were just out there. How long would it be before they burned through whatever energy they got from the Walrider? Or was it still alive in some sort of twisted team up? It didn't seem too keen on the dreamers, but it tried to kill me when it was living in Billy's head, so who even knew what was going on now. Also, where the hell was I?

What happened? I woke up. Ran from the house. Got tackled. Got hit again? There were people? I remembered someone saying something about 911. It didn't matter much, I needed to get back to work and find some other way to get rid of the dreamers.

The door swung open and then shut again. Heavier, but still gentle steps crossed the room and stopped where the young woman had.

"Sir?"

"What." What now? What kind of bull shit injuries had I ended up with? Sure I didn't have the Walrider to patch me up this time, but I'll be damned if anything stops me now.

This new voice was still a woman's, but considerably older, more worn and more than a little tired.

"Sir, I'm afraid I have some bad news." She paused

I didn't let the silence hang for long.

"I'm sure it's bad, just get it over with. I've probably seen worse."

The silence seemed offended before the doctor spoke again.

"Well then." she went on with a carefully professional tone "You came in after being struck by a truck on highway 6."

That would be the final blow that knocked the dreamer off of me.

"I don't remember a thing" playing dumb was an old trick, but it had never failed me before.

The doctor breathed deep "Of course. I don't need to know what you were doing out there in the middle of the night, but…" she shuffled a bit, the tone of her voice changed from clinical to something more gentle, nearly grandmotherly "You're in pretty rough shape here son, and well, it's not looking too good for you."

Story of my life.

When I didn't answer she went on "How much can you feel right now?"

The way she kept talking like I was a wounded animal told me that things were worse than just a scratch here and a bruise there. "My back feels like hamburger and everything hurts, except for my left arm. I can't feel that at all"

More silence in the dark.

"Is there anything else?"

"I can't see?" what else was I missing?

"...I'm afraid we had to amputate-"

"Stop right there. What?" This had to be another layer of dreamer hallucination.

Very funny you bastards, but I wasn't falling for this one.

"Sir it's… What's your name son?"

"It's Miles. I'm fine. I'm not falling for this" I willed myself to move but found everything too frayed and fatigued to do its job

"Whoa there Miles. It's ok, everything is okay."

"No." I wasn't staying here, I had so many other things I needed to do.

"Shh, it's ok. If you move now you'll just hurt yourself more."

They strain of moving told me that she was right. Too bad I'm too stubborn to listen to my own common sense.

"Miles, please you're just hurting yourself." She was speaking like someone watching an injured animal now.

This was real. I wasn't lucky enough to still be trapped in some dream-like hell; there was no way the dreamers or even the Walrider could make something sound that human.

"Shit," I gave up in a huff.

"I know this is stressful, but watch your language young man."

What?

I couldn't help but choke out an ugly strangled laugh.

Really? I'm sitting here without an arm, beaten all to hell, and you're getting on to me about a bad word? The flesh under the bandages trembled some more with the rattling movements of my lungs. How do I get myself into situations like this?

"Hey doc?" I collected myself just enough to string words together.

"Yes Miles?" an edge of professionalism slipped back over her voice, like she had been unsettled by my little outburst and was re-evaluating the situation.

"What's the damage? Besides the arm" I needed to know exactly what was going on before I started a new plan at revenge.

The doctor took a breath, whether she was stalling for my sake or her own I have no idea.

"When you were brought in there was some frostbite on your back and limbs. Bruising along your ribs and chest. Massive lacerations, several dislocated joints, a fractured femur…. And, I'm afraid that the optic nerves in both of your eyes have been severed and partially removed.

"It's a miracle that you're even alive." She ended on what was supposed to be a happy note.

Was that it then? I couldn't bring myself to find something funny to say, for once.

"I understand that this is difficult news, and if there is anything that we can do for you here, please let me know."

A little bit of numb realisation hit me in waves

"One more thing doc, where am I?"

"Skiff medical center."

"Where is that?"

"You're in Newton, Iowa. Is there anything else Miles?"

That still didn't tell me where I was, not really.

"No, that's it."

The doctor left the room, footsteps faded and the door shut, leaving me with nothing but the hums and beeps of machines.

Fuck!

I didn't try to move again, though I felt my breathing go a little wild while I took the news in. Blind dreamers, they're just god damned hilarious with their blood from the eyes bullshit! How the hell was I supposed to do anything now? What was I going to get a seeing eye attack dog and figure it out from there? I didn't even have the Walrider now, I'd already lost literal limbs and now I was missing half of my head.

No, I was my own person. The Walrider was just another monkey on my back. It's better that I had gotten rid of it.

Ha, ya right. That was bull and I knew it. It was my tool for revenge. Without the thing I was just another victim of Murkoffs as easily thrown to the gutters and forgotten as anyone else in the asylum. And I hate to admit it, but the Walrider had been the only thing I had to talk to for months at a time. I'd never say it out loud but the monster had become a sick and twisted friend that I loved to hate.

And now it was dead.

For a second I could see vivid memories of the black void filled with the men I'd murdered and a sobbing Waylon in the center of it all.

The Walrider was dead, or worse.

The beeping at my left grew more rapid with my pulse.

Calm down.

I'll wait this out. I'll figure something out. I have to. I haven't cut a bloody swath through assholes in business suites just to let one of their experiments cut me down like nothing. I ripped my attention away from past tortures, focused on breathing steadily again. Arm or no arm, eyes or no eyes. I should already be dead a hundred times over, this wasn't going to stop me.

I had just started to calm myself down when the door opened again. The footsteps that came in were too heavy to be the lady- she must have been a nurse now that I think about it. They were faster than the doctor, and she had just left, so it couldn't be her.

"Hello?"

"Hello, I'm detective Schafer. I have a few questions for you."

Great. The last half a dozen times I'd run into law enforcement it hadn't ended so well. Ok, just keep calm, you haven't done anything to piss this guy off. Not yet anyways.

"Look guy, I just woke up and it's already been a long day-"

"I understand that you're going through alot right now. I promise I won't take long." Every word he said was clipped and to the point. Did he have a bit of an accent? Something from the east coast? He sure as hell didn't talk like someone from the midwest would.

"Ok, fine then"

"Thank you. What's your full name?"

For a second I debated coming up with a fake last name. It wouldn't matter much though. I didn't exist in any sort of records anymore so he wouldn't find anything worth knowing there. And there was no reason to worry about Murkoff sending more hitmen like last time- it's a bit hard to hire a killer when there's no money and no one left alive to do it.

"Miles Upshur." I settled on the truth.

"Mr. Upshur, what were you doing on the highway so late at night?" I heard him start scribbling notes down on a paper.

Think fast Miles.

"I don't know" I didn't know where I was going with this either. "I was in Des Moines, and then I was not, and next thing I knew I was stumbling through the snow and onto the highway." I left the words tumble out and hoped they made sense as I did.

The pen scratched what I said onto the page in real time. Other than that there was no hint as to whether or not the detective bought it.

"Are you saying that you were kidnapped?" he said too long after the scribbling stopped.

"I'm saying I do not know, but I suppose I had to have been. Not much else would explain it" See, there he went making his own conclusion, all that was left for me was to make him think he was right.

"Would anyone have a reason to do this? Those are some pretty major injuries."

"I did get hit by a truck."

The silence thickened again. I'd been doing so well at not pissing anyone off.

"Mr. Upshur, this isn't a joke. Someone tried to kill you. Were you doing anything that might give someone motive? What were you doing in Des Moines?"

"I was there for work, and no. I can't think of any reason someone would want me dead." Couldn't think of anyone that was still alive or actually a person at least.

"What do you do for a living?" He spoke over the scribbling.

It's easier to remember a lie when it's mostly the truth "I'm a reporter, I was looking into a story."

"Which paper are you with?"

Well… "I'm freelance?" still not a complete lie.

"Right, and what was the story about?"

"Just the same thing everyone else is writing about, Murkoff" also technically true.

"In Des Moines?"

"Hey, they're a big company, they had a long reach."

"Is it possible that could have anything to do with this?"

"Nope." there was the absolute bullshit I was expecting to be spouting this entire conversation "I'm just a small fry, nothing worth getting rid of at any rate."

Detective Schaefer took a couple of steps closer to the head of the bed. It sounded like he sat down, a stiff cushion wheezed out a bit of air as his weight settled onto it.

"Mr. Upshur, I can only help you as much as you'll let me. If there's anything else you know. Anything. I need to hear it."

Murkoff was dead in the water, hell I could say anything I wanted right now, it would be believable. Well, mostly anything. The world was the same boring place it always had been. Demons and otherworldly monsters like the walrider and dreamers did not exist in the minds of most people.

A stray memory of charred fingers and skin grown over empty eyes picked at me.

People didn't know that there were things out there that hunted them from the dark. That was probably for the best.

"Sorry officer. I don't know anything to tell you."

The silence that replied seemed unsatisfied with my answer.

There was a shuffle "well, if you do remember something, feel free to give me a call. My phone number is-"

"Just give me a business card or something." I cut him off. "I'll let you know if I've got anything for you."

"...Sure." I heard him rustle around for a wallet and set something on a table. He didn't say anything else before stepping to the door.

I was hoping for some more quiet time to figure out my next move when someone came barreling through the door the detective had just opened.

"Is he up yet?" A frantic woman asked loudly enough to nearly burst my eardrum.

There wasn't much of a pause for answer before she made a few shuffling footsteps to the bed.

"Mattie, get over here." She yelled.

"Ruth, I know you're excited hun, but shush up a bit." A man with a voice deep enough to rumble the bed a bit followed Ruth into the room.

"Looks like you're a popular man mister Upshur." the detective said back into the room before stepping into the hall.

I didn't have time to snark back before the woman started talking again.

"Are you feeling alright? I brought you some flowers to liven up the room, and here's some casserole, it's my granny's recipe" she added the last bit as an afterthought. There was a clatter as glass clinked against the table next to the bed.

Ok, I'll bite. Who the hell were these people?

"Ruth, he's probably not very hungry," The man spoke again "My name is Matthew Pierce by the way, and this is my wife, Ruth." Matthew said, this time to speaking to me.

"I'm Miles. If you don't mind me asking, who exactly are you?"

"Oh…" Ruth gasped a little "did no one say anything to him?" She whispered to Matthew loud enough to be heard from the hallway.

"Ruth, hun, let the man rest."

I should probably just get all my talking for the day out of the way "It's fine. I've been resting for…" How long had I been out?

"See, we're not bothering him any. Miles, we are so sorry that we hit you on the interstate, is there anything we can do to make it up?"

So that's who these people were.

"Uhh, no it's ok." I guess they kind of did me a favor, there was no way I was going to get away from the dreamers by stumbling blindly through the snow.

"Oh, we insist" It was Matthews rumbling voice this time "We could call family for you, or… I don't know just name it. I can't but help feel like we owe you something."

"No, you don't owe me anything."

What was I going to do after this? I could call Chealsy… well, then again, what was she going to do? Let me crash on her couch until whenever? No, I can't ask that of her. Besides, she didn't really like being in the room with me, especially after everything she saw in California.

"We insist. Really I feel just terrible." Matthew spoke again.

Tim?

Who was I kidding, that was a terrible idea.

"It's fine. You don't need to call anyone for me" I finally spoke back.

I wasn't about to try to move again, that was a losing battle, but I needed to figure something out. I'd taken my minuet to bitch and moan to myself, now I needed to focus on the future.

"Oh, please, there must be something we can do. At least take some of this casserole"

"…Ruth, please"

The missing presence of the Walrider was getting more noticeable, I was going to have to remember to eat and sleep again.

"No. Thanks for the offer but there's not really anyone to call anyways" there the conversations done; I know they thought they were being helpful, but I have things to think about, this way they tried as much as they could and could still leave feeling like they did something. It was a win-win

"Oh no, really? The holidays are coming up there has to be somebody." Ruth somehow get even louder "I know! Why don't you spend the holidays with Maddie and me. We're not too far from the hospital, so you can make it back for any appointments, and with a few good home cooked meals you'll get better in no time."

Shit, that backfired.

"…I couldn't, besides"

"That's a great idea" Matthew chimed in "after all, we do owe you something"

There has to be a way out of this. "I don't really think that-"

"Oh please, the whole family will be over I'm sure you'd love to meet them. Besides, nothing heals the soul better than holiday spirit!" Ruth was this close to bursting my eardrums.

"It's settled then, as soon as your doing good enough to get out of here, you're welcome at our home"

I opened my mouth to protest again, then thought better of it. I did need a place to stay, and I wasn't exactly in good enough shape to figure something out on the fly. But still, just lounging around some people's home surrounded by all their loved ones? That hadn't worked out so well last time.

Then again, I didn't have any corporate hit men chasing after me or any pseudo-demons using my head as a condo anymore.

"Uhh, sure. Thanks for the offer." I got a few words in while Ruth was taking a breath.

"We're so glad to have you! Maddie I have to call my sister, she'll be so happy to hear we've got a guest this year" There were a few clattering steps as Ruth left the room.

I could still hear Ruth loud and clear from the hallway, Matthew had to speak a little louder than before to be heard over the sound.

"If there's anything else we can do, don't hesitate to ask. Really, I'll find a way to make this right."

He had gotten more serious at the end there. If only they knew that mowing me down with their truck had probably saved my life in the first place. They didn't owe me, but I couldn't exactly tell them why.

"Don't worry about, you two are doing plenty now." I told Matthew before he turned to leave.

He must have been pretty tall because it only took a couple of footfalls before he swung the door shut. Ruth's voice only became slightly muffled through the wood.

Ok, at least I wasn't going to freeze to death in the winter as soon as I left here.

With the commotion of having other people in the room being gone the ache and pains of my tattered body started to dig at me again. I had to figure a way out of this, but like it or not the best thing to do now was nothing.

I focused on breathing without having my lungs feel like putty.

It was more than likely that the dreamers wouldn't be after me at all, they got what they had wanted. That begged the question, where would they be going now? The walrider had said the things were attracted to energy, but what did that really mean? It's not like they had gone chewing through a power plant. I should have been doing more to figure out what the Walrider was instead of taking "monster" at face value.

My back ached distantly and my armless shoulder spasmed. A couple of hollow memories from the asylum nagged at me. So many mad men were there, a few came that way, some were driven to it once inside. They all said the same damn thing though, that there was a demon there, that there was something bigger going on.

I blinked, only to still find nothing when my eyes opened.

This was already going down a dark path and I could tell it was only going to get worse.


	17. New Leads

AN: Happy Friday everyone, hope you enjoy the chapter. If you like the writing (or don't) maybe leave a review, feedback is always appreciated.

***17***

I dove across the ground just in time to slide under a rusted frame covered by a moldy mattress. I barely had time to pull my legs under before the clattering of bare feet across splintered wood came rushing around the corner.

The mad men howled wordless sounds and didn't bother checking in my hiding spot.

I waited just long enough for them to twist around the next corner before scraping myself off the floor and sprinting the opposite direction. I got maybe four steps in before the floor and walls melted away. The gray-green halls of rot distorted and dripped and I fell through the mess only to find more festering shreds of building.

Twisting and turning I reached for something to grab, anything to stop the free fall.

My leg twisted around something cold and hard. Another Chilling grasp ripped at my shoulder. I wretched this way and that. I saw them. Coming out of that walls. Arms, brown with rot and coated in angry red blood. Faces, twisted in agony and shrieking: "come back!" "you did this!" "More. More!"

I struggled, flailing in any way I could. Jagged bones ripped through the walls, plunging into me for every move I made.

Something different and warm brushed against my shoulder.

On reflex I flinched away from that too.

"Mister Upshur! Hey, hey wake up."

I opened my eyes only for visions of gray and red and green and brown to be washed away by a flat black.

"Mister Upshur, are you ok?" It was doctor Sutton.

I gave myself a minuet to breath again. Every time I closed my eyes the nightmares came barreling in, it didn't matter how many sedatives they pumped into me.

"I'm just peachy"

Something warm was still blooming across my back.

"You're bleeding" Dr. Sutton told me flatly from the bedside.

"Did I rip a stitch again?" This was what, the fifth time? Sixth?

"It looks like it. Was it the nightmares again?" there was a hint of concern to her voice.

No, I was just flailing around because it seemed like a nice way to spend the morning.

"Don't worry about it. It was nothing" I said instead.

I could hear her moving around the room, checking machines, adjusting IVs. She's been doing daily checks on me for, how long had it been? Two weeks now?

"You know, if you talk about what's bothering you, it may not bother you so much." She was wearing that grandmotherly voice again.

Sure, that'll work. Don't mind me, I just get flashbacks to an insane asylum that I broke into about a year ago. Oh, and I'm also haunted by the memories of the nearly hundreds of people I've killed. Have I mentioned that I was host to a demon beyond our understanding and was getting hunted down by three others? No? Oh right, of course I haven't, because that would be insane.

"Just let it go."

"Suit yourself then," she jotted down a few notes on the clipboard she seemed to carry at all times "it's about time that we started you on an exercise regimen, we don't want anything to start atrophying on us."

"Whatever you say doc." the last time I had a doctor asking me to do something it meant a week of hell on earth.

I tried to suppress a shiver.

"I'm going to touch your arm" Dr. Sutton told me, less than a second her cold hands were on my shoulder and starting to shift my stiff limb "your back is healing about as well as can be expected, but it's still pretty rough."

I tried to adjust myself on the bed. I got about halfway to sitting up before my back locked up. Doctor Sutton was quick to give me a hand and help me the rest of the way. A month ago I had been turning men into putty, now I needed help to sit up. This was pathetic.

"Here, try moving your arm in circles, like this." the doctor moved my remaining arm in little clockwise loops. Most of the muscle leading to my shoulders creaked and groaned in protest.

"There you go. Try to do a few circles whenever you're feeling up to it."

Once upon a time I could have ripped a door off it's hinges with this arm. Now I quivered at the thought of raising it.

"Are you sure there's nothing eating at you?"

"I'm fine."

If I were in a better mood I would have tried to be more convincing.

A short silence told me that the doctor didn't believe that for a second.

"Well," she spoke in spite of the heavy silence "if you're feeling up to it we can start trying to walk when you get more comfortable moving your upper body."

Oh, right because that would was going to happen any time soon. The weight of the cast around my leg started nagging at me. I'd ended up fracturing that too. It probably should have been worse than it was but the dreamer that tackled me took the brunt of the force from Matts truck. The fact that I walked away from the collision in relatively good shape wasn't lost on anyone, especially not detective Schafer. It didn't seem like a day went by without him dropping by and prying for information.

"Miles? How does that sound? Taking a walk?"

A stray memory of the same question in different circumstances buzzed by. A wheelchair. A Murkoff executive gone mad. Giant scissors.

"Sure, a walk. Sounds great." I spoke more to the room in general than to the doctor in particular.

Before Sutton had the chance to say anything else there was a firm knock at the door.

"Come in" Sutton answered the knock quickly.

The door swung open on it's mostly silent hinges.

"Am I interrupting anything?" It was the detective. I was wondering what was taking him so long, he was usually here to bother me by noon, but it was past two.

"Oh no, I was just leaving to do the rest of my rounds" Sutton stepped away from me and into the hall "you have a nice day detective, and Miles, don't forget about those exercises"

"Don't worry doc, I'll keep it up" even I heard how unconvincing I sounded.

At any rate it must have been good enough because Schaefer stepped into the room and clicked the door shut behind him. He took his usual spot in the chair next to the bed.

"Ok Miles, I know I've been in here nearly every day, and I know you keep saying you don't know anything, but I need to ask one more time. Is there anything you can tell me about what happened to you?" He sounded more tired than he had the past few days. Could I hear him scratching at some unshaven stubble?

"Did something happen?" there was no way he was just acting like he's been up half the night.

He was on the verge of yelling "I just," he calmed himself "I just need to know what's going on

Wow, way to be cryptic.

"What do you mean by that?"

He shuffled in what I assumed was annoyance "I mean we have a dead officer and what looks like a home invasion. I also mean that we found a building that was half way destroyed a mile off the highway where you here hit. It's not just you any more, people are dieing. Tell me what you know." the chair scraped the ground behind him as he stood up. The bed shook slightly when he leaned against the edge of it.

Thoughts of charred fingers shredding my back and swampy limbs twisting through my organs traced their way through my mind. The beeping of machines next to me seemed to come and go as tiny shrieks and howls. I had to fight to keep this morning's breakfast where it belonged.

"Miles! Don't you check out on me, this is important." the bed shook slightly under him as he spoke.

I ripped my attention back to the room before I started reliving anything else.

"What happened?"

"I already told you. A home invasion, an officer down. Stop stalling"

The idiot didn't understand what he was getting himself into.

"I'm not, it's just. Ok look" I couldn't just say what was going on outright, that wouldn't be believable and would probably just get me thrown into some kind of asylum, "I was looking into Murkoff, and next thing I know I was in the middle of frozen farm land, sans arm. So it probably has something to do with them."

"See Miles, I want to believe that. Really I do, but I was doing some of my own research, and Murkoffs gone. Anyone who made it above regional manager ended up dead or worse, hell their CEO was murdered in a hospital less than a month ago. I find it hard to believe that you're looking into a dead mega-corporation. Especially one that never operated in Des Moines." Schaefer had regained some composure, but was getting into what sounded like more like an interrogation than a conversation.

Watch yourself Miles.

"Well, that's what I was trying to figure out. Who's been offing Murkoff. I mean, saying they were unliked is an understatement, but who did they piss off enough to make murdering everyone seem like a good idea?"

"Are you trying to tell me that you found evidence of a serial killer?" The detective sounded more critical of what I'd said than accepting of it.

"That or a group of people. That's what I was looking into actually. I had finally gotten a lead that lead me here and next thing I know…" I let the sentence trail off, the conversation had come full circle.

The detective didn't seem to buy it though. If I could still see I'm sure I would have found him narrow eyed and staring at me.

"If what you're saying is true, and I don't think it is, then why would this Murkoff hating group target you?"

I shrugged, much to the dismay of my back, "Who knows. Crazy people do what they want. Besides, it's my job to figure what people are doing, not why they're doing it."

"Where did you say you were from?" The change in subject threw me off more than I should have let it.

"I move all over, but keep an apartment in Washington." that used to be true.

"Out of state. That's convenient. And, which paper were you with?"

"I told you I freelance." where was he going with this?

"You have to sell your stories to someone."

"Mostly Rocky Mountain News, South Idaho Press, a couple of small name papers."

He got silent for a second, there was the smallest sound of someone tapping against a phone screen.

"It looks like the two that you said went out of business a couple of years ago."

"Are you googling my answers?" what the hell?

"Out of business means it's pretty hard to corroborate your story. Thats pretty convenient for you isn't it?"

"Why are you suddenly on my case so much. Don't you have a murderer to go find?"

"I know that you're not telling me everything." Schaefer had calmed down only a little, it was obvious that he didn't want to believe a word that came out of my mouth.

"You have a phone in your hand, look up what happened at the Chicago courthouse during the CEO's trial." Schaefer went about tapping against his phone as I spoke, "after the initial attack on the building there was a car crash in the courtyard. At least two died, who knows how many were injured. There was something there. Weather it was just someone out looking for revenge or an escaped patient, who knows. But I think that whoever was there is the same person who's here now."

There was a moment of silence form Schaefer while I read whatever article he had found.

"Best case scenario were just dealing with a disgruntled family member, but I think this was the doing of an escaped patient."

"Mount Massive happened over a year ago, there's no way some rogue patient is still out there"

"That's what I thought, but the more I looked into it the more likely that seemed, and now that I got beat to hell and back it seems like the most likely case."

There was more heavy silence before the detective spoke. He had to be buying at least some of my story. I was telling mostly-true lies, so if he was really looking into it he'd see that I was right. If I was lucky he might even find a way to get rid of the dreamers for me.

For a second I could feel my missing left arm and nearly see the Chicago courtyard again. A slug of hot lead ripped through the things twigish body, twisting its withered frame in on itself and sending the monster scurrying into the sewers.

Maybe hoping that Schaefer could fix the problem was wishful thinking.

The shuffle of plastic on fabric told me that the detective was putting his phone back in his pocket.

"I have some eyewitness reports to read. I'll be back, and don't think that I believe your story, not completely at least."

"Thanks for the confidence detective"

He wasn't leaning against the bed frame anymore, but I could feel a glare settle on me.

"Have a nice day, mister Upshur."

His steps were a bit heavier than they had been, whether from fatigue or anger, I couldn't tell.


	18. No News is Good News

AN: Hello once again guys, hope everyone had a nice weekend. Also, I just want to give a quick thanks to EyelessEmpire13 for reviewing. Anyways please enjoy the chapter.

***18***

I got in a few more wobbling steps today than I had yesterday. The cast got taken off of my leg two days ago and I'd been trying to walk my problems away.

I leaned against the wall of a waiting area. A couple of orderlies talked in the background, someone filled a cup of water from the cooler that sat at the far end of the room. The old TV that they had hung in the corner chattered on about the weather.

Detective Schaefer had only been in three times in the past ten days since the last dreamer attack. What had he found since then? More importantly, why did the dreamers attack that house? Was it just because they had the opportunity? Or was there something special about the people who lived there? Where did the Walrider fit into this now?

Who was I kidding. The Walrider was dead.

I ducked away from the wall and put my weight back onto the crutch I used to walk.

There was a survivor of the attack, they had been brought here. Apparently the couple who lived in the house had a daughter who was visiting from college. She's been moved into the room down the hall. I'd caught whispers from the staff about her being in a coma since she came out of surgery. If she was lucky she would die in her sleep. Who knew what kind of hell the dreamers had put her through, more than likely she was still there.

I hobbled past the nurses station, an elevator let out a faint ding, some people shuffled out and past me.

What brought them to that house?

I would give my other arm to be able to read again; I was going stir crazy in here.

I took a step straight into something solid and smelling slightly of whisky.

"Good afternoon mister Upshur"

"Detective Schafer? Did you find something else to interrogate me about?"

"Calm down, I'm not here for you. I was seeing if Katherine was awake yet."

"Is that the girls name?"

"Yes. Now if you don't mind I have to get back to work and find the attacker." Schaefer bumped bast me on his way down the hall.

I knew that this was mostly my fault, and I might deserve being treated like a piece of shit, but as far as the detective knew I was a victim too.

"Hey! Schaefer! You don't need to act like such an asshole." especially considering that you've only been dealing with this for less than a month. Hell, nothing had actually happened to him and he was already using booze as a crutch. If he'd seen half the shit I had he would be sobbing in the corner.

He stopped and came back to me, this time moving faster than before. He stopped close enough for me to feel his breath coming out in thick huffs.

"Miles, the town is going to hell. Nothing was wrong until you showed up here"

"Ya ya, everything's on me. I don't need you constantly breathing down my back about it" I beat myself up enough, I don't need your help.

There was a shift in the hall, a door clicked open, before I knew it I was falling out of the hall and into something hard. Detective Schaefer came down on me, pinning me to the wall. The door swung shut behind us, my crutch clattered to the ground.

"You think you're so goddamn funny, don't you? There was another home invasion, Miles. But this time nobody made it out."

He was putting enough weight on my neck to make breathing a distant dream "It's probably better that way."

The detective backed off, I took a gasping breath.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

So, so many things.

I ignored the question "have you looked into the escaped patient idea?"

"That and everything else."

"Did you check the footage? If you look at the original one there's a document at the end that talks about the Blind Dreamer Project. I think that's what's going on here."

The detective was putting a little space between us now, though I could still smell his whisky laced breath.

"Miles, all the Murkoff patients are either dead or relocated. Your chasing a delusion."

"No. No, I'm not."

"For someone who was only chasing a lead you sure are sure of that"

"Isn't that what you're doing? Besides, theres nothing else that could explain these attacks."

"Yes there is. There's always a detail that we don't catch. Tell me one more time what happened"

"For the last time, I've already told you-"

He pushed me back into the wall; he must have drank more than just what I could smell.

"Miles, people are dying."

"I know!" I pushed against him, though it was weak and the movement threatened to rip my healing back. If I hadn't been so fucking sure of myself I could have found a way to kill these things a month ago. But now there were more innocent bodies behind me.

Oh, who am I kidding. I've spilt my fair share of blood, left a couple dozen shredded families in my wake. No. They all deserved it. Everyone I killed deserved it.

"I know." I said a little more quietly this time.

"Then help me stop it"

"I already am. There are escaped patients. Look into it."

Schaefer slumped back again.

"No, you didn't see this scene. This wasn't some escaped patient, it was like a hurricane hit the house and nowhere else." There was a ruffle of fabric, a clink of metal, the sharp scent of alcohol filled the room.

"Do you have a flask?"

"Don't worry about it. There was just so much... I've never seen anything like it."

Lightweight.

"I have. How much blood was coming from the eyes? Where there even any eyes left?"

"Ha! Eyes? There was nothing left. CSI didn't find a single piece of bone bigger than an inch long. Hell, the whole damn carpet was painted. Fuck the carpet, the walls, ceiling, everything. There weren't any bodies, not really."

Nothing left.

"It was like the people in the room just exploded into a mist? Like they'd been ripped to shred or put through a blender"

"Funny way of putting it. But yes." he took another swig from the flask.

Holy shit. I'll be damned if that wasn't the Walriders doing.

Calm down miles, it's not the Walrider you know, it was just the dreamers now. Like Billy Hope all over again.

"Miles, are you still there?" I blinked away my thoughts "don't tell me you still think it's just some patients. They'd been half dead by now. It's winter, they would have had to survive a year on their own. The brutality. This was a group of sick fucks, but not asylum patients."

"No, this has to be them. There's literally nothing else it could be. I've been telling you and you need to listen. Watch the videos, look over the Murkoff cases again. All the executives got offed the same way."

Another mouthful of whisky.

"Damn it… you're no help" He tucked the flask back into some pocket and made back to the door.

I let him go, I had to find my crutch.

The door swung open, Schaefer disappeared through it and didn't turn back.

"Sure, don't help me find my crutch. I don't need that to walk or anything." I groped around at the floor. How far did the thing get? It's not like I threw it across the room.

"Miles Upshur, to the nurses station. Miles Upshur, to the nurses station"

What the hell did these people want now?

They had tried to call for me over the intercom three times before I found my crutch. It had somehow skidded to the other side of the room. I limped my way into the hall and to the station. I didn't get halfway there before Ruth spotted me and started yelling.

"There you are. I was getting worried." She had been by to visit once every couple of days. She never failed to bring in some sort of food. I probably gained a few pounds since checking in. At any rate it was probably a good thing that she kept coming in, if it weren't for everyone getting treats when she came by I'd just been know as the asshole in room 302. Now I was the asshole with cookies.

"I was just taking a walk" I found my way to the counter and leaned against it.

"Miles, you know you're not supposed to be leaning. Your back will heal crooked" She reminded me.

Reluctantly I put my weight back on the crutch. Remember, play nice. She was letting me stay at her home.

"Anyways I was just coming by to check up on you. Are you cleared to leave yet? I hate the leaving you here all the time; what you need is some good home cooking and a nice soft bed."

I was wearing out my welcome here. That and I was about to lose it with Schaefer, I swear if he came in here to interrogate me one more time I was going to snap.

"Well, I'm just taking up a room at this point. I could probably just check myself out."

"In that case let's get on with it then! My sister is coming into town in a couple of days and I could use the company, she's a handful."

I was going to check up with the doctor, chat with the staff, make sure I didn't have some sort internal bleeding I didn't know about. But hey, If she was really desperate to drag me out of here I wasn't going to complain much.

"Ok then. Give me a minute." I turned to ask for a nurse at the station.

"Here, let me handle it. You've been standing on a bad leg. I don't want you spraining anything, go sit down."

I'm an adult, lady. I can handle myself.

Thinking better of talking back I bit my tongue and took a seat in the waiting room.

The TV had moved on to a news report about a violent crime on the south side of town. A family of four was found dead in their home late last night. That must have been the dreamer-walrider incident that had driven the detective to drink.

"The police are looking for any information relating to the incident. If you know anything we ask that you call…" they weren't mentioning any details. It must have been as bad as Schaefer said. If past experience was anything to go off of it was probably worse.

"That's crazy isn't it?" someone spoke from my left.

"Excuse me?" Off of reflex I looked to the side, not that it helped much.

"Oh where are my manners, I'm Richard."

"Miles." I said back to him.

A silence hung for a moment.

"Uh… You're not one for shaking hands I take it?"

"What? Oh, no. Sorry, I can't see anymore"

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. Would you like me to pray for you?"

Like you to what now? The last time I had a run in with the preaching type they stabbed me in the neck and then set themselves on fire.

"No, I'm fine. Thank you" My back spasmed slightly as I spoke.

"Are you sure? God heals all wounds you know."

The spasm was turning into a nagging itch.

"No, no really. I'm fine."

"Okay then."

The conversation came to a lull. I wasn't keen to keep it alive, so we settled back into a silence. The TV droned for a moment longer before cutting to commercial. The itch in my back eventually faded beneath my notice. I'd have to look into that when I got the chance.

"Miles!" Ruth came barreling back over before the news came back from commercial "you're clear to leave. Let's go, the trucks in the parking lot!"

That was fast. It probably took more time to stand up and get myself ready to walk than it did for her to get me checked out.

The two of us moved back past the desk and to the elevators. Ruth took a couple of steps past me to push the button.

"With the way things are these days you'd think that they would have these be motion activated, huh?"

I'd forgotten about having to push the button completely.


	19. Charity Case

AN: Hello once again guys. First off, a quick thanks those who've reviewed. Second off, please enjoy the chapter.

***19***

It took more effort than I had expected to climb into the truck. It was a couple of feet off the ground and only having the one arm, a fractured leg, and a bad back didn't make things easy. By the time I made it in Ruth already had the engine running and was buckling herself into the driver's seat.

I also took my sweat time trying to pull the belt out and buckle myself. In the struggle I ended up having to toss the crutch in the back.

"You got everything figured out over there?" Ruth yelled from my left.

"I got it" only barely, but I did.

"Ok, then" the truck rumbled while we pulled out of the parking lot.

It would have been great to stare out the window and try to figure out where exactly we were going. Without the sight seeing I settle on just blindly staring, it was a comfortable position regardless.

"Hey Mattie!" Ruth said from the driver's side. I could just make out the mechanical squeal of Matts voice coming from the other side of the phone.

"Miles just got out of the hospital, we're headed home."

She went on talking to Matt for a while. I kept to myself.

Step one, become less of a charity case. Step two, find a way to kill the dreamers.

I screwed the pooch on this one. If I would have just listened the first time I wouldn't be up to my eyes in shit, but here I was.

Hey, remember step one. Stop whining like such a little bitch, it's not getting you anywhere.

"...what do you think about it?"

I stopped with my little pep talk just in time to catch the tail end of what Ruth was saying.

"Sorry, what?"

"About what's been going on? I've been talking with detective Schaefer and he thinks he's getting closer to figuring out who messed you up in the first place. And there's been so much commotion in town, what do you think about it?"

What had Schaefer said to her and Matt? It couldn't have been anything too damning, they were still taking me in after all.

"Well, I don't really know what's going on, but if you ask me it's probably the same thing. I hope it's not, but…"

"Hmm. I'm sorry about everything. I can't imagine being stuck out in the middle of nowhere with who knows what. Do you remember anything?"

Was she fishing for something or was I just being paranoid? "No, not really. Just occasional nightmares, but nothing useful."

"You poor thing. Don't worry, there'll be such a commotion over christmas that you won't even have time to think about it."

I mumble an acknowledgment.

How was I going to do any digging on the dreamers? It wasn't like I could just go about googling things, I couldn't see the screen. Books were out for the same reason. I might be able to call Chealsy, she would probably blow a gasket when I told her what happened, but at least it was something. Maybe Schaefer would come around? Not likely, but still a possibility.

The road turned from paved to gravel.

How far out in the boonies were we going? I couldn't hear much other than the rumble of the truck, so I guess I'd have to figure it out later.

"I have some of Mattie's old cloths that you're welcome to, they might be a bit big though. I could hem the left sleeve of some shirts if you want" Ruth told me.

"No, that's ok. You don't need to alter anything for me."

"Ok, but if you change your mind just let me know. I made the guest room ready for you, so

don't worry about kicking anyone off their bed either."

"Thank you, um… is there anyone else in the house besides you and Matt?"

"Well my niece has been living with us for the past couple of months, and my daughter usually keeps to herself, she's going through a rebellious phase. You know how kids are."

Theres kids in the house too? Damn it. The last time I dealt with kids was, well, it wasn't pretty.

It had been a long quiet series of bus rides from Chealsy's hotel to Waylon's parents. Connor didn't say a single word during the thousand mile trip, Garret got out a handful of squeaks and a couple of sentences. Every stranger I passed looked at me like they half thought I kidnapped the poor boys.

What had they seen at Zeichner?

What did Murkoff do? Nothing good I would wager. Where had I dropped them off exactly? It was somewhere in this state, but I couldn't remember the name of the town to save my life.

"We're nearly there" Ruth derailed my train of thought once again.

"I'll get dinner cooking once we get inside, feel free to make yourself at home, wash up, do what you need to do. Mattie should be getting off of work soon."

"Will do." I replied simply.

She wasn't kidding when she said we were nearly there, it seemed like the truck stop while I was half way through talking. With the rumble of the engine cut off I could hear how silent everything was. The wind mumbled over what felt like flat ground, there was no rustle of trees or crunch of dry leaves under my foot at I took a step. It was still horribly cold out, and the ground had a layer of ice over it. While I took a moment to fish my crutch out from the back I strained for the sounds of passing cars only to find nothing.

Ruth made a few quick steps past me, the last couple sounded like they landed on wood instead of gravel.

"There's three steps up to the porch" she told me from the front door.

"Thanks for the heads up."

I moved as fast as I could considering I desperately wanted to avoiding falling on the ice.

Eventually I made my way to where Ruth stood, she held the door open for me.

The inside of the house must have been eighty degrees, it was like stepping into a defroster compared to the outside. The scent of pine hung in the air, they must have had a real christmas tree instead of a synthetic one. I took a couple of hesitant steps, trying not to trip over some unseen piece of furniture. The wood floor cracked ever so slightly under each movement; it didn't take long to nearly trip over a rug.

"Watch out there, also Mattie's chair is to your right" Ruth called out as she walked across the room. It wasn't long after that that a clatter came from somewhere to my right. Metal pots and pans sliding past each other told me that there must not be a complete wall between the living room and the kitchen. I took a second to feel around with the crutch before I tried to move to the sounds.

I stumbled into a barstool before getting to the actual wall.

The seat didn't budge, I hauled myself onto it and leaned against the bar. I was right about there being a half wall.

Ruth had already told me to make myself at home, she seemed busy with cooking. I could catch bits and pieces of a song she was humming while she worked. More details trickled in the more I looked for them. There must have been a fireplace in the room, a faint scent of ash hung in the air underneath that of pine. Most of the sounds, while plenty loud, didn't echoe much and seemed a little muffled; there must have been plenty of rugs, curtains, and soft furniture to absorb the sound. The stool I sat on creaked slightly every time I moved, that and the rough cloth top suggested that they had some years on them.

Great, looks like I've walked onto the set of Little House on the Prairie.

"I'll be in the back" I excused myself from the room.

"The guest room is the first door on the left if you go past the kitchen"

I told her thank you as I made my way around the kitchen. I hugged the wall and just followed it until I got to a door. Hoping I was in the right place I went in.

The smell of it was different from the main room, it seemed cleaner, a little less lived in. I ended up tripping over a bed.

This must be the right place.

I took a second to waddle around the room, there was another door in the back of it that must lead to a bathroom. I found a dresser covered in assorted knick knacks, there were a couple of bed stands next to the bed. I drug a hand across a picture frame or two hung that on the walls. The room seemed modest, but well cared for.

After my quick inspection I went into the bathroom. There was a shower, built in counter with a sink, and a toilet. I would have taken a minute to make sure I didn't look like hell warmed over, but I hadn't gotten that good at telling by touch if my hair was a mess. A quick feel of my face did tell me that I had grown the beginning of a disheveled beard.

I'd have to shave that. I looked like a hobo with facial hair. When was the last time I shaved? Some time last year probably, I didn't have to worry about it when I was running on Walrider power. My stomach grumbled at me; that was something else I'd have to remember to get used to again.

Ignoring myself I leaned the crutch against a wall and fiddled with the shower. It's damn near impossible to figure out how to work one you've never used before even when you can see it, trying one without even that was a fool's errand.

Eventually I got the water running, though getting it to the right temperature was a feat all its own.

After scalding myself a couple of times I set about scrubbing the smell of the hospital off of me. It may not have been the stench of flesh and rot from Mount Massive, but there was something similar enough to it that it left me with a bad taste in my mouth. I struggled to reach my back, most of the deeper cuts were still there, I would have to get the stitches removed later. There were some spots that were rough than the others, was it scarring over in a weird pattern?

I took a couple of minutes to try to get a good feel for it, not that my arm was in much of a mood to cooperate. There was a rough half circle near the small of my back, a straight line went up from there, I had to reach over my shoulders to find that it ended in a small circle. There were some more seemingly shapeless rough patches over the back of my ribs, I could have sworn that there was another long straight line running perpendicular to the first one.

"The hell?" I wondered outloud to myself.

That couldn't just be a random healing pattern, lines that strait didn't just happen and I doubt that the dreamers had taken time to scribble some sort of markings onto there.

The Walrider could have though.

"You clever bastard" I was almost expecting a snide reply about it being obvious.

I went on with my washing. Had I seen that scribble somewhere in the halls of mount massive? Maybe, there was pseudo-religious graffiti everywhere. More than likely I wouldn't get the chance to review the footage, especially not now. I don't think anyone here had seen it, sure they had to know about it, but neither Ruth or Matt seemed like the type that would be into the details of the case.

Maybe I could bug Schaefer about it. That was assuming I saw him again.

I finished rinsing the last of the soap from my hair.

It took no small amount of maneuvering to fish out some cloths from the dresser. It took even more time and effort to get dressed. Everything there used to belong to Matt. He was a big guy. I wasn't little but the genes hit the floor and the shirt I found fit like an oversized trash bag. Grumbling to myself I tucked the shirt into my pants. There was a belt that took a year for me to get through the loops, I put it to the tightest setting but there was still an inch to spare. Somehow we wore the same shoe size, so there was my silver lining.

I hoped I didn't look like an explosion at a textile factory and stepped back to the hall.

A new smell greeted me. Something thick and meaty, had Ruth made a stew or roast? Passing the kitchen I found my way back to the bar stool.

"Good to see that you found your way back"

"It took a while, but here I am" I called back

"Mattie should nearly be home. Dinner will be ready soon, I'm making soup. It's my aunt Caroline's recipe, but I added a little something extra. Just to give it a little kick."

Talking food wasn't exactly my cup of tea, but I could at least make an attempt.

"And what would that be?"

"Well you'll have to try and figure that out yourself. It's a secret."

 **Hey, go figure out-**

Oh, right. That wasn't a thing any more.

You have no one to blame for that but yourself.

I shrugged off what was about to be another mental beating from myself.

A clatter of footsteps came from somewhere behind me and to the left. I had to fight the urge to jump out of my skin. My heart did a little panic flutter too.

Just breath. You're in a cozy country home. There's nothing hunting you down anymore. Well, there's probably nothing hunting you down.

"Oh. Is that your charity case?" what sounded like a younger version of Ruth spoke from the other side of the room.

"Melody, be nice. Miles just got out of the hospital."

"That doesn't make him less of a charity case." Melody, who I was guessing was the daughter Ruth mentioned spoke more quietly- probably to herself.

I might have lost my eyes and an arm, but my hearing was not to be underestimated.

The floorboards creaked and sagged under Melodies weight.

"Melody, can you start setting the table? You father will be home any minute now."

"Why don't you get your other charity case to do it?"

Ok kid, you're starting to get on my nerves.

"Young lady! Don't talk about your cousin like that!" Ruth had gone from her normal yelling to angry yelling.

"Fine. I'll make your table. Just don't yell, you're so loud." I could feel her eyes rolling.

Step one, heal. Step two, kill the dreamers. Step whenever I get the chance, find somewhere else to stay.

For all her protesting Melody got off the couch and actually did what she was asked. At least that meant the end of the not-shouting match. I didn't have to wait long before Matt got home. He hurried in from the outside. The door wasn't open for long, but a gust of cold wind carrying slivers of snow forced its way in with him.

"It's colder than a penguins pecker out there" Matthew rumbled out some words with the a stereotypical dad chuckle that left me waiting for the laugh track to start.

"Then come get some soup, it'll warm you up real well" Ruth said from the kitchen. Anything suggesting that she had just been upset with her daughter was gone and seemingly forgotten,

"Is it your aunt Caroline's recipe?" Matt asked with a few steps towards the bar.

"You know it" The sound of liquid being poured into a bowl filled the silence left when Ruth's voice faded.

"Hi Miles" Matt's voice vibrated the stool I was sitting on as he walked past.

"Hello Matt" I answered back.

The clattering of silverware let up, Melody wordlessly grabbed a few bowls from the kitchen and walked back to the table.

"Alexa! Dinners ready!" Ruth yelled towards where I assume the stairs were. Not long after, light footsteps half fell down them.

"Wow, you're missing an arm." A little girl that had to be the niece Ruth mentioned spoke.

"Alexa, don't be rude. Miles is our guest, and he just got in an accident." Ruth was quick to speak up.

"Oh. I'm sorry mister Miles" The little girl spoke again with the exact same tone, it was almost uncanny.

"It's fine." I did my best imitation of someone who knew how to talk to kids.

"Hey! It's nice to look at me when you talk. I'm down here!"

I hadn't been looking where I was speaking.

"Alexa…" Ruth said her name in that way that only a mother who was about to lay down the law can.

"Sorry mister Miles…" her light little footsteps skittered off to the other side of the room.

"I'll have a talk with them later, I am so sorry." Rith told to me before walking off to the dinner table.

"It's not that big of a deal."

I followed Ruth and the sound of Matts rumbling voice to the table.

Half hoping that I had chosen a spot that was actually set I slumped into a chair. My crutch wasn't so lucky though, it slipped from where I propped it and clattered to the floor. Damn it, not again.

There was a little bit of a snicker that had to of come from Melody. While I considered picking it up, Ruth muttered fiercely- and at full volume- after her. I decided against making a scene out of it and didn't bother fishing around the floor.

"Right, well, who wants to say grace?" Matt rumbled over the table.

"Miles, you're our guest, why don't you start us off?"

No.

Not just no, absolutely not. My back was already doing weird shit when religion gets mentioned and with my luck I would have some sort of chest burster walrider-spawn back there.

"Oh I couldn't. You just said, I' just a guest. The head of the house should get to say a few words."

"You're right, Mattie?" Ruth spoke again.

Matt shuffled a bit in his chair, as did everyone else. I kind of just bent my head a little, my shoulders were spasming and I doubted it was just from moving.

A couple of words that were more rumbling sounds than actual english rolled over the table. What felt like a thin line of fire traced along my spine; I bit my tongue until I heard what passed for an "amen".

"That was lovely dear. Ok kids, dig in."

There wasn't much sound other than the clattering of silverware on bowls. Occasionally little patches of conversation welled up. It was mostly just pleasantries: what everyone did for a living, that the kids were on break from school, Ruth's sister and her son were coming in on monday. Mostly just idle chit chat.

It was all just filler until Ruth started talking about tomorrow.

"Also, the ladies are coming over for bible study tomorrow. Miles, you would love to meet them."

"Will Garret be there?" Alexa chirped from my left.

"I don't know. Maybe if you call and ask misses Park real nice she'll bring the boys over and you can all play while we do our reading."

"But," the girl got a little bit quieter after that, like she was saying something she knew she wasn't supposed to, but was going to anyway "...but I don't want Connor to come over. He's creepy."

"Young lady, that's not a very nice thing to say. And if you were Connor would you want people to think you're creepy?" this was the most motherly I'd heard some one be since…

Wait a goddamn second. Connor, Garret, Park. Shit. Iowa? Fuck!

Oh hell. What have I gotten myself into now? I just had to get mowed down by the neighborhood's favorite fucking family. Don't tell me, were they going to find one of the dreamers and invite them in for pie? Did I miss a murkoff executive, was that Ruth's sister? What could possibly go wrong now?

Ok, breath Miles. You're probably freaking someone out. That's it, in and out, you're not drowning.

"Excuse me for a minute." I stood and hobbled a couple of steps before my leg screamed at me to stop.

The goddamn crutch!

"Never mind me" I did my best to awkwardly crouch down.

"Melody, don't just sit there. Help the poor man."

The teen gave a half snarl half sigh that was two parts discuss and one part laziness. She did hand me my crutch through.

With more skill and speed than I thought I had, I made my way back to the guest room. As far as the family was concerned I made a trip to the restroom, in reality I plopped down onto the bed and reevaluated my life decisions up to this point.

I didn't have long to throw my tantrum before the phone started ringing.

Who the hell still has a home phone?

From my spot in the bedroom I could feel more than hear Matts rumbling voice answer the phone. There had been another receiver ringing in there, I reached out for where the sound had been coming from. It only took a few blind grabs before I found the phone. Without saying anything I held it to my ear and listened in.

"...and I was just calling to see if Miles Upshur was there?" detective Schaefer was speaking.

What was he calling about? Was he still day drunk, or had he gotten his shit together enough to start doing his job.

"He's here. Did you have something to ask him?"

"I was just needing to confirm a few details that we had talked about earlier. Can you put him on the phone?"

"Oh, well, he's in the back right now. Should I have him call you back?"

At this point Ruth yelled from across the room asking who it was.

"It's the detective hun, he's asking after Miles"

"Oh, well see if he wants to come visit tomorrow I'll be home all day and I've been meaning to give him a pie as a thank you gift."

Ruth stop giving people food! I mean, don't invite him over… fine. Never mind; this is how it gets worse.

Matt went back to talking on the phone "instead of calling, why don't you just come by. Ruth will be home all day, so you can just come by here whenever it's convenient."

"Actually, thats a great idea. I can be there around noon tomorrow."

"Ok, we'll see you then. Have a nice night detective."

"You too mister Pierce."

I waited for them to hang up before trying to put my receiver down.

Go kill the dreamers I said, it'll be easy I said. We can just be done with it now I said. I held in an angry yell.

You have no one to blame but yourself.

I scraped myself off of the bed and went back to the dining room. This time I managed to sit down without sending my crutch flying across the floor. The soup left in my bowl had gone cold, but I finished it regardless. Ruth asked Alexa to help Matt clean up the table. I offered to help, but she insisted that I go rest on the couch instead.

It didn't take long for the tv to get turned on. It also didnt take long for Matt to lumber over and settle into a recliner.

"Everything's going to hell in a handbasket out there."

"Hm?" the evening news chattered on in the background. The story of the day was still the second home invasion.

"It's just, things like that aren't supposed to happen around here. Last week there was a special about a terrorist attack in Chicago, and now there's the same thing going on around here." A can hissed open while Matt was talking.

"What are they saying about Chicago?"

"Ah, it's all just talk right now. A couple of the crazies are saying it's a government conspiracy. Sure, there was some weird goings on where most of the people who worked for Murkoff have been getting killed left and right, but that doesn't mean the government is behind it."

"You're right, that would be weird." Don't worry there Matt, it was just my doing. Well, I had help.

"Don't get me wrong, most of them deserved it, but… some of the murders were just brutal. I don't think whoevers doing it can be reasoned with."

"Yeah…" I'd seen a hundred people bleed out at my feet, some gasping for a last breath, some crying, a few begging for mercy. They all died as pathetically as they lived.

"I just can't imagine what's going through that person's head."

"It sure is a mystery."

"But I can kind of understand. You were a journalist, do you know anything about it?"

"You could say I did some work on the Murkoff case. Interviews mostly, some camera work. Nothing that important."

"You never know. Oh, and uh… don't mention anything to misses Park tomorrow. You might recognize the name Waylon Park."

He'd been through so much and I treated him like shit.

"I've definitely heard the name. He was the whistleblower who started all of this."

"Right, so you know nobody's heard from him since. There was a little video released of him speaking, and then nothing. If I had to put money on it I would say that Murkoff caught up to him and carted him off. Too bad we'll never know for sure though."

He laid dead at my feet in a pool of his own blood, his two young sons sobbing over his cooling body. Three pieces of lead had been enough to rip away what little life he had left in him.

"It's a mystery."

I didn't want to take a trip down memory lane. Especially not one that ended in death and my past mistakes. I excused myself for the night and went back to the guest room.


	20. Black Scribbles

AN: Happy Friday guys, also I'm just going to apologize in advanced for all the shit that goes down in this chapter (wait, did I say that out loud?). Anyways, thank you again if you reviewed, input is always welcome and I hope everyone enjoys the chapter.

***20***

I layed in the bed for what felt like years but sleep wouldn't come. Not really at least, every time my eyes drifted shut I found some fresh hell. Sometimes it was the asylum, some times I was running from the dreamers, sometimes I was back in my old life, only to have demons from the dark come bursting forward to swallow me whole.

The sun could have been climbing above the horizon when I found myself crawling through the sewers. The red and green pipes surrounded me, the water came up to a knee and soaked through my boots. There was a dry piece of land that lead to stone stairs. A grimy piece of paper was balled up on the ground:

 _This God is real...This is the gift of the Walrider...The greatest sin in the world is willful ignorance of God... To stand in the way of salvation is a sin for which there is no punishment too great._

This was in father Martin's handwriting. Weren't you dead you soggy old bastard?

Rattling chains echoed off the putrid water and rusting walls. I didn't take long to dwell on the father's message. The stairs seemed to grow as I began my ascent. The rattling grew louder, closer. My steps got more frantic with each second.

"Little pig!"

I sprinted.

I flew over the steps two at a time. The door at the top only went further away.

Chris' breath reeked of coppery blood and stung hot with rage.

I looked wildly over my shoulder. How far was he? How long did I have? My head wasn't facing all the way back before I crashed onto the door and sent it rattling on its hinges. Frantic I ripped at the handle.

Get me out of here!

The door swung open wildly. I would have sprinted through but was stopped.

"Hey buddy! Long time no see."

Trager.

I opened my mouth only to taste copper. The chains still rattled somewhere behind me. Me head slumped down.

"I was wondering when you'd be back. I always knew you weren't a quitter."

Rusted scissors pushed their way through my gut and out of my back. Bile joined the blood and foamed out of my mouth.

"C'mon buddy, there's no reason to make a mess." The scissors twisted, "well if you're not going to talk back, screw you!"

The blackened blades clipped together. My spine snapped. The world was black again. The rattling chains faded into a memory, my thundering heart beat was all that was left to distract me from my ragged breathing. I would have shot upright but my back was locked up again. I settled on whipping the cold sweat from my face instead..

Sleep was overrated. I did my best to slowly stretch my back. Fuck the bed, I was getting up whether my body wanted to or not.

By the time I convinced myself to start moving I could smell a hint of coffee. Hopefully that meant it was late enough to actually be awake. I pulled my crutch from the ground and stiffly made my way to the kitchen. I thought I was making plenty of noise but apparently I caught Matt of guard coming around the corner.

"Wh-! Oh, I didn't see you there Miles."

"Sorry about that." I would have made an attempt to sound chipper but I was too tired to bother.

"I'm just making a pot of coffee, do you want some?"

"Sure, that would be great. Hey Matt?"

"What?"

"What time is it?" I would kill to be able to look out a window or at a clock right about now.

"A quarter to seven. Were you having trouble sleeping?"

I must have been showing how tired I was.

"Just a bit," If I were in a better mood I wouldn't have been able to keep a straight face, that was such an understatement, "don't worry about it, it's nothing."

"Whatever you say Miles. How do you want your coffee? There's creamer in the fridge."

"Just a spoonful of sugar, if you can."

There was a couple of clicks while Mike stirred in the sugar. The mug was warm to the touch when he handed it to me.

The refrigerator opened and a creamy sweat smell wafted up.

"People think the creamer in the fridge is Ruth's, but it's all mine" Matt chuckled a bit at himself.

I hummed in acknowledgement of his comment. The coffee was hot and I burnt my tongue a little.

"So, when do you think Ruth's get together will happen?" I needed to know when to make myself scarce.

"Judy usually gets here kind of early. Alexa likes to play with Garret, and Ruth and her usually bake cookies or pie for everyone else. Probably eight thirty? Patricia comes in just past nine. Stephany's a wild card. Sometimes she gets here before Judy, other times she gets here just in time to say goodbye to everyone, but she has a new baby at home and her daughter is a bit of a handful, so we usually let it slide." Matt seemed like he was going through a mental check list "Oh, and Christine said she would be here but her mom's in town. Both of them will probably come by."

Oh goodie it was going to be a full house.

"One more thing, detective Schaefer called after you last night, so he'll be here at some point."

Yay.

"Well, would you look at the time. I need to get going." He made his way to the front door. The wind cut its way into the house when Matt opened the door. It had to be below zero out there.

I was left in silence once Matt was gone. I stayed at my place on the bar stool.

What had that paper said… I know I found it in the asylum. Why was that something I was remembering now? Was I just reading too much into it? No, there had to be a reason.

Wilful ignorance is the greatest sin. What did I not know?

My back itched slightly.

I didn't know what was going on with that for starters. I didn't know why the dreamers were still hanging around here. I didn't know how I was going to kill the things.

A few lazy footsteps came down the stairs.

"Oh. You're awake." It was Melody.

"Good morning to you too sunshine." I wasn't in the mood to deal with a bratty teen. Not now at least.

"Ugh, you're so lame." she muttered thinking I hadn't heard her while she walked into the kitchen.

"I'm blind, not deaf" I said while she poured coffee into a glass.

"You're still lame."

Remember Miles, murder is wrong. Usually.

I bit my tongue.

More commotion came from the other side of the room.

"Good Morning, Miles. I thought I heard someone talking in here" the sun couldn't have been up yet and Ruth was already yelling.

"Good morning Ruth."

Melody said nothing.

"Ok you two, go get cleaned up. Misses Park is on her way over."

It's not eight thirty, It's not even seven. It's the weekend, what are all you people doing up so early?

"Is she bringing her little freaks this time?" Melody finally spoke up.

Kid, if I still had both my arms I would use them to strangle you.

"Young Lady!" there we went with the yelling again "Connor and Garrett have been through so much. You be nice to them!"

"Whatever."

"Don't you take that tone with me."

There was an overly loud sip of coffee.

"...I'll be in the back." I did my best to slip out of there before everything got worse.

The two still hadn't said anything by the time I shut the door behind me. While I wondered what I was going to do I changed back into the too-long jeans and another oversized shirt.

I couldn't just hide in here all day. Maybe Connor and Garret wouldn't recognize me? I had a mess of hair on my chin, and I did lose a limb recently.

Oh, who am I kidding, you don't forget the guy that was standing over your dead father.

I took my sweet time getting the buttons of the shirt done. The missing finger was something I'd gotten used to, but now that I didn't have my other hand I was really started to miss it.

A knock at the door rattled me away from my thoughts. I could hear Ruth talking to Mrs. Park from here. I strained to listen for the elderly lady, but heard nothing. Waylon was always pretty quiet, he must have gotten it from her.

There were quiet foot steps and a few frantic ones. Alexa must be awake.

My innards felt heavy and threatened to twist themselves into knots. I let Waylon die. I was an ass to him. How was I going to go out there and face his grieving mother and children?

Get a hold of yourself man. She doesn't know who you are and no one's going to say anything. I leaned against the crutch and and took a few breathes just to calm my nerves. The walk to the kitchen was short.

"Miles, there you are. This is Mrs. Park," Ruth was the first one to speak when I got into the room.

"Hello, Ruth has told me so much about you." If I remembered correctly she was a thin twiggy woman, her voice matched that description. It barely rose above a whisper and sounded permanently tired.

"It's nice to meet you." I shifted awkwardly on the crutch to hold up my hand for a shake.

She returned the gesture, I went to sit on the couch.

See. Here I am in the main room acting totally normal, nothing out of the ordinary here. Nope, nothing at all.

Except for my back feeling like it's covered in ants. Nobody's talking Jesus yet, what gives?

"That's mister Miles." Alexa spoke from the stairs "he can't see" she added as a half whisper.

Ruth and Judy were in the kitchen and hadn't heard the kids. I didn't have the luxury of a distraction.

"Connor! Get back here!" A voice I recognised as Garrets whispered at a the small footsteps descending the stairs.

The little steps got closer, grew muffled once they hit the rug, went passed me, and then sagged onto the couch to my left. The stinging on my back was getting unbearable, what had to be Connor's little head leaned against my side.

"You're dad's friend." His tiny voice was almost too quiet for me to hear.

"Uhhh…" Shit what do I do? I don't know, just don't move.

The kid just sat there, the two on the stairs scurried away, Judy talked to Ruth, my back twisted and twitched. I fought to keep a straight face.

I didn't have the TV to distract me, Connor started taking a nap at my side. Or at least I think he did, he was sitting so still.

It seemed like a short forever before Ruth and Judy came into the main room.

"Hey Miles, do you want- Oh would you look at that. He's fallen asleep. Judy get a look at this."

The elderly lady walked around the couch "He never takes to strangers, you must have a way with kids." she sounded pleasantly surprised.

No. No I don't have a way with kids, or anybody else. I am the opposite of a people person.

"Umm. Sh-should I move?" I asked anyone who was listening.

"Oh no, make yourself comfortable. I haven't been able to get him to have a full night's sleep, he's probably exhausted."

That made two of us.

The two ladies took a seat on the other side of the room.

Connor stirred just as they walked away, "it's gone now?"

What did this kid just say? Judy hadn't heard him, neither had Ruth. The rough skin on my back crawled.

"But they're not gone"

What did Murkoff do to this kid?

There was a ding from the kitchen, Ruth walked to it, saying something about the pie must being ready. Connor grew silent again while the room stirred. The scent of baked apples filled the house, somebody new knocked at the door. Judy let the guests in with a new gust of wind.

The cold took the rest of the world with it.

Why was it so quiet? Where was everyone? Why did it feel like my back ws getting flayed again?

There was a shake on my shoulder, my heartbeat thundered.

"Miles?" a soft woman's voice trickled in through the haze, "Miles? Wake up"

Had I dozed off? I wiped at my eyes, Connor was still at my side.

"I-I'm up." I did my best to shake off whatever had just happened. It felt like someone had ran a hot piece of metal across my back.

"Detective Schaefer is here" Ruth said from over me.

How long had I been asleep? Wasn't he supposed to be here at noon?

"OK, just let me, uh…" I got to halfway standing before I realised that Connor was holding onto the armless sleeve of my shirt.

It took some coaxing from Ruth before the boy let the shred of cloth go. I got to the other side of the couch before Connor climbed over the furniture and whispered "They're still here."

My back rattled again and I hurried away from the living area.

I didn't know where Schaefer was. If he was talking it was lost in the noise of the room. I uselessly tried to look around the room when the sound of crinkling paper caught my attention.

"What's this supposed to be?" I barely recognized the detective and made my way over to him.

"It's a picture of- uhh." Garret was speaking then abruptly stop when I got closer.

"Detective?" I said from my standing position. I hoped I was facing the right direction.

"Mister Upshur" his voice came from my right, a ruffle suggested that we was coming up from a crouch, "There's quite the crowd here. Do you mind if we speak in private?"

"Not at all, there's a room in the back" What had been so important that he decided a home visit was better than a phone call?

I hobbled to the back, his even footsteps and the slight scent of whisky clinging to his cloths said he was following close.

I stepped into the guest room, he shut the door behind him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were at the Mount Massive Asylum?" He was matter of fact, like he'd rehearsed this question a thousand times, but never imagined what the answer might be.

"What?" I hadn't decided what the answer to that question was either.

"I did what you suggested, looked over the released Murkoff tapes. Did you know that there was a second set of footage? Well, of course you do, you're the one who filmed it."

"What makes you say that?" I thought Murkoff has scrubbed me from existence, they were thorough as far as I could tell. Hell, they even got my gym memberships thrown out.

"If you go the second set of video and look at the very beginning, there's a press pass hanging from the rear view of a car. You can't make out the name, but if you look closely you can see a birth date on that pass. Guess what date you gave the hospital?

"Now, of course that's not enough to prove it was you. But I do my job okay, so I did some digging. From the dash board I found that the car was a 1987 Jeep Wrangler, I got a friend of a friend involved, and low and behold; the same car was recovered at the Park residence in Boulder, Colorado. Do you know that it had Washington plates, that's where you're from. Right?"

The murmur of conversation drifted through the walls.

"Ok? If I was there what are you going to do about it?" I leaned a bit more heavily on my crutch.

"Well, I was going to ask you what was really going on with these escaped patients of yours, or what exactly it was you that you found there. But then I got this." There was the crinkle of paper.

"I'm sure this would mean so much more if I could see what was on that paper." the room grew a little heavier. There was something electric in the air that told me one misstep here could lead to a violent misunderstanding.

"It's nothing much, a kids drawing. Waylon park's kids actually. I'm sure you recognized them. It's pretty convenient that you ended up around them by the way."

"Convenient isn't the word I would use."

There was a cough for the detective to catch his breath "Right, well. It looks like there are a couple of kids here, there's someone else on the ground. There's a lot of red around that one, but there's another person. He's pretty tall and there's a lot of black scribbling around it. You saw Waylon's tapes, right? You remember that controversial ending, with the person in the middle of all those black scribbles?"

"I saw it. You have a child's drawing in your hands. They see things, they draw them too. It helps them cope."

"They write things too. What does this say? 'Miles and his monster watched dad die.' that's pretty explicit, don't you think?"

"Where are you going with this detective?" I adjusted my stance again. My skin was still crawling.

"You roll into my town, you have a checkered past that you don't tell me about, and then the killings start. Who did you bring with you?"

"I told you, I didn't bring anyone." not exactly at least.

The detective was growing closer, he inhaled before speaking but was interrupted by the door opening. Little footsteps traced around the detective and came to tug slightly on my left sleeve.

"Hey kid, we're talking. Can you wait outside?" Schaefer did his best to sound non-threatening, but was still wearing a cop voice.

"They're here now" Connor whispered.

"...What?" Schaefer again.

"They're here now" Connor didn't get any louder.

The scars on my back swelled with a blistering pain again. I tried and failed to stay standing up.

"Miles…?" Schaefers attention left Connor.

The sounds from the living room went from idle conversation to something more clear: "did you see that? Was there someone out there?"

"I don't know."

"There it was again."

Something hot blossomed across my back, thick blood welled past the stitches and soaked the shirt.

"They're here. Go say hi." Connor murmured above the hum of static.

Static.

"Miles… What the hell is that?" the detective stood over me now.

Static. Something slammed against the wall.

More sound from the other room

"What was that? I swear I saw someone!"

"Over there, my god, are they ok?"

A lone howl rose above the layer of static.

"No!" I yelled through gritted teeth.

I must not have been loud enough, the pressure in the house shifted. I felt the cold cut through the building even from the back room.

It didn't take long for the screaming to start.

Schaefer bolted out of the door and into the hall. I doubled over, more hot blood weeping from the wounds on my back.

"Get back!" there was gunfire, stampeding feet. A grown woman screamed for her mother. A baby cried. The howling got louder.

A gun shot invited more screaming as people started running over me and into the room.

"They're here! They're here! They're here!" Connor started at a frantic whisper but was screaming my the time the detective stepped back into the room.

"Get in the back!" He yelled before a gun roared again and the door slammed shut.

The static filled my ears, the howl started putting pressure on my mind. For a second I could see the room painted in black ash and swampy water. They were here, wielding the swarm as a weapon. A tool to rip us limb from limb.

I clawed at the carpet under me, Schaefer pushed the dresser in front of the bedroom door. Someone painted in reeking blood grabbed a still screaming Connor and pulled him into the bathroom.

The dresser was barely in place when the door started shaking.

The world was fading in and out, coming to me in ghastly frames, some of the room was painted in my own remains, some of the world filled with the walriders swarm. Flashes of rot and fire. This place was one of death, a new scream ripped itself from my lungs.

Schaefer wildly reached for the radio he carried at his side.

"I need back up!" He screamed not nearly fearfully enough.

This was it.

The door rattled on the frame.

I had a good run. This was the end.

Shards of wood splintered from the door and rained down as hot embers in the cold air. A few bit into my skin as they landed, the burning was lost on the sea of agony coming from by battered back.

Schaefer shot his gun at the dreamer beyond the door. A yelp cut through the static before the door exploded in.

Now you just pissed it off!

The dresser tumbled away like it was made of sticks; Schaefer went with it. Frantic screams from the bathroom grew louder. I twisted in agony to face the dreamer.

It flashed in and out. The things charred skin stood out against fire red flesh. It towered above me, taller than I remembered. Heat wafted off of it, the skin of my face blistered while my back did the same. Its broken jaw hung open to release a howl that shook the walls and rattled my chest.

A chipped claw of a hand rose and swung down. Like five daggers it ripped into me before I was sent tumbling through the air. The wall stopped my flight, my shirt squelched under me before I slumped down in a puddle of my own blood.

Before I had the chance to breath again more bullets ripped through the air.

The world came in strobes, Schaefer sat half pinned by the dresser with his gun raised and firing at the approaching monster. I was shaken by another wave of agony, I tried to yell, to move, to do anything to hide from the pain.

The dreamer jerked and twisted as each bullet ripped through its charcoaled body.

Static that used to mean a friend slipped into the room. Thick streamers of black metal rushed through the air, little pellets tore through my exposed hand and face. For a horrifying second the full form of what had been the walrider swirled itself into existence. Burning lead hands ripped at my shoulders.

More shots fired.

Static rang.

The screaming grew louder.

A howl hung in the air.

The ghost in the swarm stopped. Its flat face panned away from me and to the wall above, the blank plate split where a mouth should have been and a new earsplitting shriek cut the air.

Fresh blood spilled from my ears and rolled down my cheek. From under the tide they found a little more gun fire in the commotion.

The scenes of the room came and went slower, swelling from the dark and distorting away, leaving me sightless again. The dreamer collapsed, a leg falling away from it completely. The swarm went mad, thrashing this way and that- taking some of my skin with it- as it was flushed from the room. Ghostly hands clung to the door frame as the last of it was torn from the building. As it was ripped from the room a last bullet tore through the air before Schaefers gun clicked empty.

The world was dimming again. A thick acidic haze rose from the dreamers smoking body. My back throbbed in time with the smoke twisting into the air. The last thing I saw before the mess twisted towards me was the swarm disappearing around the corner.

I was left in the dark when fire surged through me.

Without taking time to breath I screamed and twisted to escape. I had to do something, anything. The blood in my veins must have been boiling and my organs cooking from the inside out. My arm blistered then went back to normal in the space of a second.

My throat went raw, cracking from the heat, then mended itself back.

The static was gone. The howling was coming from me now. Someone yelled in the distance:

"You're here!"

The fire faded and I slowly stopped writhing against the wall. The room was cold. My head swam. This mornings coffee made another appearance.

The bathroom door creaked open, the only one to stir carried themselves on light footsteps and ended up grabbing my loose sleeve.

"you're here!"

I went limp. Foreign energy ripped through me; muscles twitched while my eyes grew heavier.

"You're here!"


	21. Welcome to the Jungle

AN: Welp buckle your seat belts guys, we're starting this week out with a bang. Also, another huge thank you to my reviewer(s) and I hope everyone likes the chapter.

***21***

Schaefer reeked of whisky and was holding a gun.

I laid flat on a hard mattress and plastic sheets. Every nerve in my body felt raw and singed, like I'd fallen asleep on a bed of coal.

The room was still black but the smell of disinfectant and hum of monitors said that I was back in the hospital.

A chair creaked, heavy and uneven steps crossed the room.

Schaefer was drunk, I could smell it long before he leaned over the bed. His arm was in a sling too, sprained maybe? Both of those together would make him easy prey.

Wait, what?

"What the fuck was that?" he snarled.

His breath was more hard liquor than air.

I couldn't see, but I knew he was favoring one leg. If you hit his left knee the whole leg would fold in without a second thought.

"Answer me damn it!"

My throat stung and protested against the idea of words. A cough rattled out of me and eventually a few sounds crawled out with it.

"I told you, Murkoff-"

"Bullshit! That thing wasn't a person" The bed rocked a bit as he steadied himself.

I could reach over and go for the neck. He was so distracted with himself-

My arm moved slightly at the thought only to get snagged on a piece of metal. Was I cuffed to the bed?

"I might be fucking crazy but that thing died and burst into flames. I don't put much faith in anything but the smoke made a goddamn bee-line to you and disappeared."

No shit. Becoming a fucking playground for demons beyond our collective understanding was basically my hobby these days.

"There are two more" the swarm had twisted into a familiar form, that featureless face hung in my memory, "maybe something else too."

"No. No there can't be more. That thing was impossible."

"You read the documents, it was one of the things called the Three Blind dreamers." I tried to sit up, to get closer. Every strand of muscle in me strained and threatened to pop. A snarl and surprising pain pushed me back down.

Schaefer stepped back from the bed, a machine continued beeping it's steady rhythm.

"If half the things I thought were impossible actually were, I would have been able to just stroll out of Mount Massive. Now uncuff my arm, I have to end this."

"You're delusional. Stay down!"

"I wish I was delusional. Just let me out of here and I'll solve your monster problem."

"How the hell do you think you're going to do that?"

I fought through the strain of sitting up "I don't know yet, but I'll figure it out."

I couldn't see. But I knew the detective had a mixture of fear, anger, and confusion painted over his face. It was like having some un-nameable sense, something between seeing and hearing and feeling. Whatever it was, it was telling me to break out and go wild. To find something - anything - and hunt it down.

"Miles, get back down!"

"No, they're out there!"

They were actually out there. I could feel it, like little beads of my own thought were tracing around the building. They were hungry. They wanted to get in.

"Stop!" He put a hand on me to push me back onto the bed.

The reaction happened in an instant.

I fell through the dark and opened my eyes to find a neighborhood covered in soft ash. Schaefer stood in the middle of the road, wild eyed and terrified.

"Where are we?"

I found myself standing next to him.

"Don't panic." I was mostly telling myself. The last time I was here the burnt dreamer was using me as a chew toy, it wasn't here this time though.

What had been stinging cinders floated on the air only to settle around me like a gentle mist. The vacant and starved buildings took on a lighter look, like they were just waiting for their owners to come home again. I took a deep breath of hot air, the tension on my limbs loosened. I was almost comfortable for the first time in a month.

A handful of gun shots split the thick air before being replaced by the clicking of an empty magazine.

Schaefer. He didn't belong here with his machine and his fear.

No, that wasn't what I meant.

"Miles, get down!" he yelled at me. I didn't budge, moving now would mean jumping at him and doing something I would regret.

"Fuck!" He turned tail and got a few steps of a sprint in before a solid black wind rushed past me and pulled him into the air.

The scene folded out in slow motion before me. The other dreamers were close, staying at the edge of my domain. This place. I mean this place. The thing in the smoke was different, familiar. A beast in search of something interesting; wanting for a thrill, for something to surprise it. It was tied to this place, to the other dreamers, to me now.

"You whiny piece of shit!" I shouted at the cloud that held the screaming detective, "what the fuck are you doing here?! I thought you were dead!"

The air in the street grew hotter with my anger. The swarm curled around to face me while still suspending Schaefer above the ground.

"Say something. I know it's you in there"

" _I thought you were dead."_ A voice rose from nowhere in particular.

"Well that makes two of us. Now let's get out of here, we have dreamers to kill."

"Put me down!" Schaefer yelled from his place in the swarm before being plopped onto the ground.

The swarm took on the ghostly form of a man that floated a few inches off the ground.

" _I can't just leave._ "

"Oh bull, get us out of here." I wasn't in the mood for a back and forth conversation. This place was getting on my nerves anyways. It was starting to get a bit too familiar for my comfort.

" _I'm not being dramatic. I'm bound to the other dreamers."_

"What is that thing?" Schaefer spoke an actual sentence for the first time since he was picked up off the ground.

"Do you remember the scribbles from the picture that you were giving me shit about? Well, meet the scribbles." I looked back at the Walrider, "what do you mean bound?"

" _You're still as thick headed as you always were."_

"Just tell me what you're talking about!" I didn't need a lecture right now.

" _I mean they won."_ A few wayward shrieks cut through the air " _we need to hurry this up, I can't be everywhere at once."_

"Hold on. If you're basically their bitch now, how are you here then?"

" _There are three of you, you moron. I'm spread out but still alive."_ the ghostly form was slipping away.

I was just going to let the being one of them part go for now.

"One more thing, how do I kill the other two?"

" _A gun seemed to work pretty well_ " the last of the Walrider slipped away, leaving me and Schaefer alone to listen to the growing wails of the dreamers.

As soon as we were alone the need to hunt something down and rip it limb from limb came crashing back. The Walrider was gone, this was the opposite of how it was supposed to work.

"Miles get me out of here" Schaefer came closer to me.

"Get back, and let go of me!" I pushed him away harder than I meant to. When I did the sights of the burned street shattered and left me back in the dark. Sharp screeches cut through the walls. They hadn't gotten into the building, but they were close, running through snow and looking for a week spot.

The detective took a step back towards the bed.

"Don't touch me!" I rattled the bed, the moments freedom from pain was gone now that I was back in the real world.

"I don't know what the hell you are, but tell your friends to leave." he sounded frantic, the scent of copper mingled with that of whisky. How hard had I thrown him?

"They're not my friends we need to get the hell out." They were coming around to this side of the building.

There was a seconds hesitation, then a low moan spurred Schaefer into action. The cuff on my remaining wrist went loose. I was in the perfect place to flank him. It wouldn't take long for the others to get here.

I crammed those thoughts back into a dark corner of my mind.

"They're coming from the east." I went the opposite way.

My leg threatened to go out with each step. It had to still be broken; I could feel the occasional bead of blood trickle down my back too. All of it was lost in the flood of anguish that came from every other nerve in my body.

The halls were empty besides me and Schaefer. Where was everyone? Even the nurses station was abandoned. In the second that it took to wonder about it the detective took the chance to get in front of me.

"I'm not following a blind guy," there was a snort "if you're even actually blind that is."

Ok you testy son of a bitch, when they come after you I'm just going to leave you behind.

"It's complicated. Hurry up!" They found a fire escape and were getting inside.

They had to know where I was if I could feel them. They'd been living in this hell for over a year, I had just started. I didn't even want to think about all of the sick things they were capable of.

"My cruisers on the far side of the lot." we must have been near a door. Schaefer stood still like he was searching for them in the snow.

"Well go then, they're inside!"

"How did they get-"

"Just go." I went passed him and towards where I thought the doors were.

I'd chosen the right direction; biting wind cut through the hospital gown and ice grated against my feet the second I stepped outside. Schaefer wasn't far behind. He didn't say a word while we picked across the frozen pavement. How far away did he park?

The dreamers were tearing through the hospital. Scents of bile and bodily fluids wafted to me in waves. One of them dug their hands into a screaming body. I could feel the soft strands of organ meat get stuck under the nails on my hand.

The small hum of static brought me back to focus on the frozen lot around me.

"Fuck, not again!" The detective took off at a sprint across the slick ground.

Was that friendly swarm or something else? I didn't want to find out the hard way and took off after Schaefer. I hit the cold metal of the police cruiser at the same time a thousand freezing beads of lead hit me. I ripped the door open, the shards ripped into my back. Swallowing a howl I fell into the passenger seat, Schafer slammed himself into the driver seat.

"Oh my God-"

"Just drive!" the sensation of nanobots burrowing though battered skin made me sickeningly at home.

The others were making it to the front of the building. The tires spun for a second before gaining traction and sending the car peeling out of the lot.

The air in the car stunk of copper and booze. I took a second to breath while the fire that had to be burning my nerves cooled slightly. The car's engine roared and the frame shook. We had to be doing over a hundred.

"Slow down. They're not going to catch us." I tried and failed to keep my voice calm.

The car skidded to a stop, I had to brace myself not to go flying.

"Well damn, if you stop moving they might catch up!"

There was the unholstering of a weapon, Schaefer leveled it at me.

I took a breath in and exhaled a few words "put the gun down Schaefer."

"Why the fuck would I do that?"

"Because it's empty. I heard you run out of ammo." Don't try to bluff me.

There was a beat of silence before the metal and plastic thing got thrown into the back.

"Fine." the car pulled back onto the street. Occasionally another vehicle rumbled by us on the road, "ok, while I'm thinking strait. Tell me what's going on."

"That's what I've been doing!" Oh really! Now you wanted to talk about it now? I've been saying the same damn thing for the last two weeks and now you're ready to listen? Now. After we had the dreamers tear through a house gathering full of women and children? Actually, how many of them were dead? How many lives did they rip through before we managed to put even one of them down!

"I know! I know you've been saying shit about Murkoff and escaped patients… and… I know! Ok?" There was a bit of heavy breathing.

 _Well isn't this quite the scene._

"And where the fuck have you been!"

"What?" Schaefer asked from the driver side.

"I'm not talking to you right now." I told him, barely containing the urge to yell again.

 _We could just kill him and take the car._

 **Don't tempt me.**

 _Is it really me tempting you any more?_

 **Ghost, I don't need you to play games right now. Just patch me up and make sure the dreamers are sleeping when I find them next.**

 _I wish it were that easy._

"Just tell me what to do! I've had enough of a run around!" I yelled at the air. Schaefer leaned away from me.

 _So testy, you were so sure of yourself a month ago_

 **You can call me a dumb ass later, I'm sure you will. But we have bigger problems now.**

 _About that, I'm due back any minute now._

There weren't enough swear words in the english language to say just how pissed off I was right now.

 **Then stop wasting time and help me out.**

 _I've already done as much as I can._

The scars on my back itched ever so slightly

 **Is that what the shit is on my back? Am I your personal note pad now?**

 _Don't flatter yourself. It's just easier to get back in here if you're labeled as mine._

 **Oh really?** Realistically I shouldn't be mad about that, but at this point I was ready to yell at the sky for being too blue. **Know what? It doesn't even matter. I already saw one of the dreamers get mowed down by a clip full of lead. I'm just going to try that on the others.**

 _I wouldn't do that…_

 **Why the hell not?** I didn't have many more options. I wasn't about to let them eat through the countryside.

 _Well, I've been doing nothing but holding their hunger back since I got here. If you kill the others you'll just end up absorbing their power and hunger. With or without my help I would give you a week before going completely mad._

What was being said refused to register.

 **I don't care what happens to me, I just want those things dead.**

 _Let me spell this out: If you kill them you will just become a worse version of them._

 **I'll worry about that when I get there.**

 _You're insufferable. I have to go before I rip myself in two. I know you have a death wish but try not to die while I'm out._

The presence of the Walrider vanished from the cramped car. It would take a quick jerk of the wheel to send the car tumbling, then I could… No.

"Well fuck you too then!" I distracted myself by yelling at the Walrider that wasn't there to listen.

I stewed in the silence. I would have stayed that way too if Schaefer didn't take it as a sign to start talking again.

"Are you talking to me now? Or is there someone else in my car?"

"Schaefer don't try me right now." I pinched the bridge of my nose just to have something to do.

"Try me then. I'm listening. I've seen enough to believe anything at this point."

You haven't seen shit.

"Fine. Murkoff did some more experiments, made more monster besides the Walrider. That's the black smoke by the way. It's kind of an ass but that's besides the point." every word came out tired and matter of fact. I just didn't have the energy to make a joke, not now.

"Anyway, these other things were called the blind dreamers. They basically eat people's minds, trap their victims in comas that are really living nightmares. It's pretty shitty. There were three but now there's just two, it seems like they don't like getting shot."

I ran out of fucks to give a long time ago.

Schaefer took a second to process, driving well enough with the traffic as he did.

"So where do you fit into this?"

"I used to have the Walrider riding around in my head. The dreamers got a hold of it a month ago and here we are now."

"So why are they still in town?"

"I don't have a goddamn clue why they stuck around at first" I didn't really care either.

"Ok… Why are they here now?"

Just fuck it.

"When you shot the first one I absorbed it. Before you ask I don't know how this shit works, I'm just trying to stop it."

"You…" I could hear the little hamster wheel powering his brain squeaking in effort to connect the dots "you absorbed..."

"Sound it out, you're a big boy."

"You're one of them now?" the car kept driving smoothly in spite of the detective growing more tense.

"Eh. Probably."

There was a stunned silence.

"Don't worry about it. I'm not the one killing people on sight" not yet at least.

"So, these things… they're not people." he went on to ignore the revelation.

"The Walrider never was, no. Officially I have no idea about the dreamers, but it's looking more and more like they're something similar."

"Similar to what?"

"The Walrider. I'm not going to mince words with you. It's a demon native to Germany, nazis got involved, it's complicated."

"Nazis?"

"Look if I have to explain every little detail to you we're not going to get anywhere with this conversation."

"Ok fine. Hell's broke loose and decided to come to Iowa. What else is there?"

"Damned if I know. Nobody bothers to tell me anything."

Another silence settled. The car went over smooth pavement, I didn't care enough to ask where we were going. A few songs came and went over the radio before being interrupted by Schaefer.

"We're fucked."

You don't say.


	22. Reverse

AN: So, OUTLAST TWO COMES OUT IN A WEEK HOLY SHIT IM SO EXCITED. *Ahem*, now that that's out of my system., please enjoy the chapter.

***23***

It turned out we were going to Schaefer's apartment. It also turned out that he lived on the third floor.

My still broken leg was complaining slightly louder than the rest of me by the time we finished the hike up there. It seemed like everyone was home, the woman who lived next door was all alone, it wouldn't take much to get through a window. She was asleep, with just a couple minutes inside I could-

"Miles!" the detective jerked my attention away from thoughts of homicide, "get inside."

I shook away dark thoughts and followed him into the apartment.

What hit me first was the smell. Whisky and brandy floated on the air, a few sad sprays of febreze were all there was to mask the spirits. While I was distracted by the aerial assault I ran into a table and toppled over a few empty bottles.

"How many liquor stores do you keep in business? It smells like a brewery in here."

"What are you, my mother?" The door shut behind me, there was the clicking of two deadbolts and the rattle of a chain.

I guess his paranoia was finally paying off.

"Make sure the windows are locked too, those things can climb." I said as I stumbled deeper into the room.

"We're on the third floor." he protested slightly.

"They climb" I repeated. He was going to have to listen to me if this was going to work.

"Fine." A few laches clicked shut as Schaefer moved around.

I ended up finding and slumping onto lumpy couch. The dreamers were on the south side of town. Was there an abandoned building? They weren't on the hunt for anything, that much was clear.

Schaefer sat down in a chair to the left, there was a clink of glass and the flow of liquid.

"You can't be serious right now."

"I had a long day, I don't tell you how to live your life." he took a quick sip of whatever he had just poured.

"Fine, if you're too drunk to stand up straight when the monsters come knocking, don't expect me to save your sorry ass."

"I wouldn't expect you to be any help anyways." The glass landed on a table, some clicking and the noise of metal sliding past more metal replaced it. At least he was keeping his gun loaded.

I didn't need him, I could just go to the dreamers myself. Steal the detective's gun, figure it out as I go.

No, that was stupid and probably good way to get myself killed.

 _I thought I told you not to do that while I was out._

 **Oh goody, how long do I have on the Walrider now? Do I get a whole ten minutes this time?**

 _...and you think I'm dramatic._

 **Answer the question.**

 _I will be here as long as I can. Wait, this is bothering me._

What was it on about?

There was a stinging in my eyes, I couldn't help but stifle a grunt and duck my head for a second. Suddenly everything seemed impossibly bright, the light might as well have been a dagger digging into my retinas.

"Miles, what are you- holy shit!" faster than I thought possible with his whisky dulled hands and doctored arm Schaefer had the gun he was cleaning back in one piece, loaded, and level at me.

The flurry of movement wasn't enough to distract me from the rest of the apartment. Bottles lined most of the surfaces, only a few spare pictures hung on the walls, a muted TV flickered. Things shifted and bubbled slightly, coming more into focus as they did. The colors were off, like I was looking through a layer of dirty water.

 _There, I've been getting tired of looking at nothing. It's so boring._

"Hey!" Schaefer was still panickedly trying not to yell "don't you move!"

 _Why are we still putting up with him?_

 **Not now!**

"Calm down, what's going on?" what was with the sudden panic attack? I didn't have enough of the swarm for it to just be floating around like it used to do so it couldn't have been that.

"Your face, it's" there was some gesturing with his injured arm around his eyes. He still hadn't moved the gun.

 **What did you do?**

 _Your eyes aren't working, I'm trying to fix it._

"You can put the gun down" I was just pulling at scraps of the Walrider right now. Assuming I had as much of a hold on the swarm as the burnt dreamer had getting shot now would be bad news.

"You're not going to do anything crazy?" Schaefer hesitated at the thought of disarming himself

"I pinky promise, happy now?"

He was not. But the gun lowered slowly and before long he went back to cleaning the thing.

 **Ok, I'll bite. What did you do?**

 _He's overreacting, it's not that bad._

 **I want the details.**

 _It's an old trick, we used to use it for seeing in the dark. The colors in your eyes just look reversed._

I could imagine the surprise of looking up to find someone with black sclera and glowing white irises to be a little more than unsettling.

 **...that terrifies people.**

 _I know, isn't that convenient?_

 **Know what never mind-**

 _Damn it, I have to go._

 **You just got here.**

 _There's two of them and one of you._

My vision was starting to fade.

 **It won't be like that for long.**

 _You're just making it worse for us._

 **I'll figure it out. I've already made my mind up, the other dreamers have to die.**

Just before the static faded completely there was a last reply _That's the thinking that got us here in the first place!_

Then it was gone, the room was back to being nothing but a blank slate. The urge to race into the neighboring homes and ruin lives hit me like a truck.

"Are you back to normal over there?" Schaefer asked.

"What passes for it these days."

The gun went to the table, the glass of whisky replaced it in Schaefers hand.

"I need to know more about these dreamers. You said they put their victims into comas?"

I'd been hunted down in tattered memories of Mount Massive, chased through visions of sewers and impossible black voids.

"Basically. There's more going on than that but from the outside it looks like a coma."

There was a beat of silence, Schaefer swallowed another mouthful of whisky.

"So Katherine- the woman who survived the first home invasion - she's not waking up, is she?" he asked almost to himself.

"Not if she's lucky. You don't want to walk around with something like that in your head." if you did it was only a matter of time until it striped away everything that made you you.

I considered pouring myself a drink.

The detective brought himself back to the conversation, "Where do the Park boys fit into this? One of them was," there was a sip "was saying things."

I walked them past their fathers cold body. The dreamers came out of the Zeichner facility, I didn't want to think of what Connor and Garret had gone through.

"Murkoff. I don't know what they did but the kids watched their parents die. What kind of things were they saying?"

Connor had been muttering that "they" were here. He had to be talking about the dreamers.

"They fucked with kids too?" He chugged the rest of the glass "be honest with me, was it you offing the higher ups?"

The edges of his words were starting to slur, it wouldn't be hard to get the jump on him. He wouldn't react fast enough to get the gun, I could have him on the ground before he even knew what was going on.

I pushed further back into the couch, Schaefer mistook the gesture as me admitting guilt for the killings.

"At this point, the bastards probably deserved it." something new was poured into the glass, "were you the group that destroyed the Chicago court house?"

"That was an accident. I didn't mean to-"

"Save it!" he got very loud very quickly, then went to a quiet muttering, "I think you're a monster."

"You're drunk."

There wasn't much of a reply other than the sound of drinking. I steadied myself against the couch and decided to let the conversation go furrow.

What was going on with Connor and Garret? Garret had been drawing pictures and at least acting like a kid his age. It landed me in some hot water, sure, but at least he was doing something.

It was Connor that gave me the creeps.

"They're here" I muttered to myself.

Schaefer drunkenly snored from the armchair.

Connor had said it over and over. Screamed it when the brunt dreamer had broken into the house. What did they do to him?

Whatever it was it was my fault. I brought Waylon and Lisa to Donalds house, that's where Murkoff caught up to us. That's where Lisa got killed, the boys got kidnapped. I should have done better. I should have seen that coming. I should have found a way to fix it. I should shut the detective up, his snoring is going to drive me crazy.

I was standing before I thought better of it.

He thought he'd seen so much.

One person in a coma? Two home invasions? That had been enough to send you crawling into the bottle?

I leered over the detective in his chair. A hiccup bumbled its way out between more deep snores. When had I last slept without a nightmare? I haven't had anything to eat since that cup of coffee yesterday.

My hand came to rest on the back of the chair.

How did they do it? How did they drag people into those dark mental corners?

I picked up my hand.

Would he wake up when it happened? Or would he just stay asleep and fall into some nightmare?

He stirred under me, twisting this way and that, grumbling something about not being there in time. Was he in some hell of his own making? Did he have the mind to torture himself for me?

I drifted closer.

The fear came off of him in waves. I drank deeply from that pool of agony, each drop came as a savory morsel. Delicious.

What was I doing?

I stepped away from the chair. I had to go. Had to but doors between me and him. I did what I could to wipe away the urge to feed from my mind. I hit the wall and felt for a door. I found one and tumbled through it.

The counter and tile floor said it was a bathroom. I struggled to lock the door behind me before slumping to the ground.

There were other people in the building, most of them asleep. What time was it? Why were there so many people having nightmares?

I tried to focus on the cold ground. Everything seemed cold now.

Stop that.

I inhaled and tried to find something productive to think about.

My mind just kept going back to my mistakes.

What happened to the Pierces? To Ruth and Matt and their daughter and niece. There were so many people there when the dreamer came through. How many had died? How much more spilled blood had I caused? That woman had been screaming for her mother, was she dead now?

I should have brought a bottle with me.

And the hospital? I felt them tearing people limb from limb. That was on me.

I closed my eyes and hoped for sleep that I knew wouldn't come.


	23. Bang

AN: Happy Friday guys, also remember how the week was starting off on a bang? Well, it's ending with a slightly more literal one too. Anyways, another huge thank you to those who review, I hope everyone enjoys the chapter.

***Ch 23***

I ended up shaving to pass the time. Then I washed my hands. Then I paced a bit. Then I considered going back into the other room but thought better of it. It felt like years before Schaefer knocked at the door.

"Miles? What are you doing in there?"

Ok, you're not going to jump him. Everything is perfectly fine.

I cracked the door open.

"I'm just doing my business."

"It's pitch black in there."

Really?

"Oh wow, I didn't notice."

He realised how stupid the comment was "right. Eyes, sorry. Anyways I need to use that, get out."

He had no idea how close he came to deing last night. I stepped past him, careful to avoid bumping into him. The door shut, leaving me in the main room.

I hadn't slept a wink. Whether that was from the dreamers, the Walrider, or myself I had no idea, but either way I felt like my eyelids had been replaced by sand paper. It didn't take long for Schaefer to come back. He went to the kitchen and poured himself a mug of coffee. A shot of vodka went into the drink.

"Jesus christ, you just woke up."

"And I like a little something to get me through the day."

This was a losing battle, "fine, the dreamers are somewhere on the south side of town, if you get an excuse to go down there I would bring back up."

I had spent half of last night telling myself not to think about the dreamers and the other half doing nothing but thinking of them. Just Like the at the hospital I knew where they were like I knew where my feet and hand were. It was as if the others were just an extension to myself and me a part of them.

I went to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle. A tiny amount of liquid sloshed around the bottom. I downed it in a small mouthful.

"I thought you were judging me for day drinking."

"It was a bad night" my skin was still crawling.

Schaefer snorted. There was a little clatter of metal. What was he doing?

"Right, here hold this for a second."

I put my hand out to grab whatever it was.

There was a quick clink of steel on steel. Something cold clasped shut around my wrist.

"Hey, what the hell?" I rattled my arm against the handcuff, "Schaefer, let me out of this."

"Sorry Miles, I have to go to work and I don't trust you to be good while I'm out." He was making his way to the front door.

"Come on!"

"You'll be fine. You can turn the sink on if you get thirsty. I'll be back later"

"Don't leave me-!" the slamming door cut off the rest of what I had to say.

Ok. Don't freak out. Just calm down. Everything will be ok.

That son of a bitch!

I could be doing literally anything. I could be chasing down dreamers, trying to figure out what the fuck Murkoff did to Connor, but no. I'm sitting here tied to your sink!

 _What a shame._

"And where the fuck have you been!"

 _You're always in such a good mood when I show up._

I took a breath "just get me out of the cuffs, we have work to do."

My vision was coming back to me, courtesy of the Walrider.

 _Trying to be reasonable with you always was a fool's errand._ A little bit of swarm tricked out of my hand and twisted into the cuff, unlocking it from the inside.

"It wouldn't be me without terrible ideas."

 _Too true._

I walked out of the kitchen. Schaefer was a cop in the midwest, there was no way he didn't have a personal firearm somewhere in the apartment. There wasn't anywhere that looked obvious in the living room so I stepped into the bedroom.

It was much cleaner than the rest of the house, to the point where it probably hadn't been walked into by anyone in a couple of weeks. How many nights had Schaefer fallen asleep in the arm chair? Shaking the question from my mind I made my way through the room.

 _Under the bed. There's a safe._

"I thought you weren't helping."

 _I wasn't but you don't understand how boring these things are. At least with you I'll have some fun before needing a new host._

"You're the same ray of sunshine as ever."

 _You still have a death wish._

I turned over the mattress to find a small gun safe. A handful of swarm slipped out and through the metal. As I crouched down to open the little box I caught sight of myself in a mirror that hung over a dresser.

My hair was wild and I was still wearing a gown from the hospital. The reversed eyes didn't do anything to help my image either.

I opened the box and picked up a revolver.

Step two, change clothes.

I went to the dresser and rummaged around until I found something that should fit. Schaefer wasn't small, but he was a couple of inches shorter than me. I settled for a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. Now I only mostly looked like an escaped lunatic. I went back through the drawers. A pair of gloves was tucked into the corner, I pulled them out.

 **Hey, make an arm shape.**

 _You can't be serious_

 **Just do it. I don't know if the other police are looking for me but I imagine more than a few people would be very unhappy to see me. No one will expect me to have two hands.**

There was an annoyed buzz.

 **Besides. I like having two arms, they're useful.**

 _It won't last long but fine._

Most of the swarm that I still had on me flowed out in a dense stream to fill the other sleeve of my shirt. It was clunky and moved either too much or too little at any given time. Getting the glove over what passed for a hand was a feet in of itself.

"You're losing your touch." my not-really-an-arm kept wavering.

 _I'm split between three places, give me a brake._

"Fine." I pulled on a jacket and grabbed a pair of sunglasses before leaving the trashed bedroom behind.

I didn't hesitate to leave the place. I didn't even lock the door behind me.

 _Hoping that the officer gets robbed? You've gotten even more petty._

 **You mean that as a compliment.**

 _Maybe._

I walked on. The other two dreamers weren't together anymore. One had gone somewhere to the west, the other was still in town. I walked south to it, the revolver weighted heavily in the jackets pocket. Now that I got a good look at it the town wasn't that big. The hospital I had been in was probably the only one in town.

 _There aren't that many people here_

 **That means it's more likely from someone to recognize me.**

 _I don't think that's going to happen._

 **I've had worse luck before.**

The roads were mostly empty due to it being the middle of winter, most people were probably staying in for the holidays too. I still couldn't help but feel exposed.

 **How long do I have before you get pulled away again.**

 _Good question._

Of course. I checked again on where the nearest dreamer was. A mile away? Two? Just over two. It was somewhere cold, what a shocker.

 _I left them in some sort of park. They'll be on the move soon enough though._

 **One of them already is.**

I shivered in my jacket against the wind. I should have gotten more layers. As I walked I got a better sense of where the other dreamer was. It was inside, but still near trees. In a park? I looked at the street from under the sunglasses. There was a street sign that said that Thirty Acre Park was to the right. I went down the road and hoped I was going the right direction.

It had to know where I was too. Why wasn't it moving?

 _Don't question it. You read too much into everything._

 **Being paranoid was how I payed the bills.**

I got to the edge of the park. A sign said that the camping area was closed for the season. That sounded like a good place to start as any. I plowed through the snow that came up to my knee.

 **It's a good thing you finally got around to patching my leg up or this would be impossible right now.**

 _I already told you I'm being pulled in too many directions at once, you should be happy with what you've got._

There was a rash of annoyed static that I would never admit I had almost missed.

What looked like an office or ranger station sat in a clearing ahead. One of the windows was broken in. The other dreamer was in there. I knew it like I knew that snow had melted and started seeping through my shoes, like I knew that my hand was curling around the pistol in my pocket.

I drew the hunk of metal and took a few more steps towards the building.

I listened from just below the shattered glass. There was no sound to speak of. I rose from my crouch and turned to look into the darkened building. With my free arm I moved the sunglasses way to see better through the dark.

It sat in a pile of tangled limbs in the far corner of the room. I considered it from my place outside. It knew I was here, though it didn't stir. I had never used a gun before, even from this close I would probably miss. Trying my best not to startle the thing I climbed through the window. I landed heavily on the concrete floor. The dreamer uncurled from its place on the ground.

I fiddled with the pistol without looking away from the thing.

Wait for it to lunge. Don't miss.

With gangrened limbs it pushed its way to standing. My vision wavered for the smallest of seconds.

 **Don't you leave me now.**

There was no verbal response but I kept sight of the beast slowly coming closer. It closed the distance in an agonizing minute, I smelled the wet rot of its tattered flesh, one more foot and it would be running into my outstretched arm.

It looked down at me, a quiet creaking moan gurgled up from a collapsed lung.

Shot the gun. Now.

My hand wouldn't listen

I could almost see myself through its sightless eyes. For a stomach churning moment I considered leaving the thing be. It's easier to hunt as a pack.

The rotting dreamer had wrapped a freezing hand around my shoulder before I convinced my arm to move. It's hairless head came to rest near mine, if it's festing mouth could form words I would have been able to hear the slightest whisper.

I brought the weapon to rest just underneath the things chin, near my own ear. It held itself tighter against me, like a parent welcoming their child home for the holidays.

Bang.

The gun cut through the monster's low moan. Its tired body went limb and heavy.

A blazing pain shot through my own head, like I was the one with a piece of lead ripping through my brain. I pulled the trigger again.

And again.

Again.

I still had the dreamers leaking body on top of me when the pistol clicked empty. The fresh blaze of pain hadn't faded from my skull. When the ringing in my ears finally stopped I pushed the ragged collection of bones, rot, and skin off of me.

I let the gun clatter to the ground and I buried my face in my hands instead.

Shit!

Something new and unwelcome slithered under my skin. A wave of fresh nausea rolled through me; I gave up and dry heaved for as long as my body would let me.

 _Kill the dreamers, it will be fine. I'll figure it out when I get there._ The walrider mocked me from the edges of my mind.

"Not now." I said from my heep on the ground through gritted teeth.

 _There's only two of you now. I can afford to wait a little longer before having to disappear._

Two? The other dreamer was coming. I could feel it sprinting back from whatever it had been doing to the west. The gun was empty, I had the second thing trapped in my skin. Even I had to admit I couldn't face the third one now.

I stood and held in another dry heave.

I stumbled to the door, unlocking it from the inside to get out. The snow wasn't helping my escape.

 _If this is how you handle taking in a second dreamer I don't know how you think you're going to deal with all three._

"You're not helping." I leaned against a tree to steady myself before moving another heavy leg.

I couldn't deal with two more miles of this.

 _Do you even understand what you're going through? The dreamers aren't like me._

 **I figured that out when I didn't have another asshole talking to me from inside my own head.** I didn't dare open my mouth out of fear of heaving up stomach acid.

Annoyed static started to grow from nowhere.

 _Why even bother, you lasted for just over a year. That's a new record for me._

 **You're not getting rid of me that easily.**

I trudged on a few haggard steps at a time. It was slow progress, but at least it was steady.

If the walrider had eyes they would have been rolling at me, _they're a disease. A hunger that will wither you away into nothing and make you go mad._

 **You could have told me that before I decided to go on a dreamer hunt.**

 _If I had you would have just tried to find a way to heal them. You're moronic heros complex has gotten you killed._

 **I'm not dead yet.**

The scenery changed from that of the park to the streets that lead back to the apartment

 _Only barely. I'm not immune to this either, it won't be long until it infects me too._

 **So you go from homicidal to… what, slightly more homicidal? I think you'll live.**

 _It might be worth staying around just to watch you go mad._

 **Thanks, you're my best friend too.**

I stumbled on in silence. I was coming up to the fence around the apartments. It couldn't be long past noon. When would Schaefer get back from work? Probably some time later. I would have to figure out how I was going to explain the trashed bedroom and soiled cloths. He would probably be wondering where his gun went too.

Wait a second.

I leaned against the railing to the stairs and caught my breath.

Damn it! I left the gun in the park.

 _Fantastic._

"Shut up!"

I heaved as soon as the words stopped. Stinging clear liquid came up my throat and splattered against the frozen ground.

"Not. A. Word." I muttered between breaths as I made the ascent up the stairs.

The third floor might as well have been Everist, but I made it all the same. The door was unlocked like I had left it, apparently Schaefer didn't come home for lunch. I locked it behind me before tumbling past bottles and crashing onto the couch.

The ceiling swirled above me, the effort it took just to breath was enough to make me gasp for air.

The last dreamer was getting to the park right about now. It skittered into the door that still hung open in the winter air. It found its other half dead in a pool of its own filth. Was that a hint of rage I felt from miles away? Sadness? Fear?

I had to be imagining it.

The dreamer was a dried husk of the man that used to live in the same body. I'd felt a hint of that madness, the urge to rip into someone. It wasn't like the walriders messy, but mindful rampages. The dreamer knew nothing but wild abandon and an unending hunger.

My chest almost refused to fill with air.

My vision was fading back to black, the imitation arm was dissolving and slipping back into my body.

I lost sight of the ceiling and closed my eyes.

Just before I was gone completely I couldn't let go of a nagging thought.

The rotting dreamer hadn't considered attacking me. I was just another piece of themselves as far as the dreamers were concerned.

If they weren't after me, why did they go to the hospital?

Why did they go to the Pierce's?


	24. No Rest for the Wicked

AN: Hey guys, I hope everyone had a good weekend. Also, this chapter was _hard_ to write from a technical standpoint and it was just emotionally draining, so... take that as a warning I guess. Also, also thank you for sticking with the story this long and an extra thank you if you reviewed; really, feedback keeps these chapters coming. In the mean time please enjoy,

***24***

"What the fuck Miles!?" I woke up to Schaefer screaming at me.

I would have talked back if I didn't gag when I opened my mouth. A wave of nausea that only let me focus on how hungry I was washed over me.

"You can't be that sick, you made it two miles in the snow to the park with my gun. Get up!"

Somebody got a call down to the park.

I curled in on myself and deeper into the couch. I could nearly taste the anger rolling off of Schaefer; it hung on the air and smelled sweat enough to cover the reek of alcohol. From my place I grumbled something resembling "go away" through gritted teeth.

"That's it, I'm doing what I should have done in the first place. We're going to the station." He shifted to reach for me.

No, not more people. Not now, I can't be trusted; I'm starving.

Good, more people. Some will be locked up too; easy targets.

More alien thoughts that were all my own surged through my mind. I did all I could to push them away.

An eternity after starting to move Schaefer finally came into contact with my shoulder. His grasp tightened around me.

I lost the fight with my mind.

My legs kicked out to sent me through the air and strait at Schaefer. The two of us toppled through the coffee table. The anger in the air grew as we crashed to the floor, it was joined by new scents of whisky and a hint of coppery blood. I blindly thrashed at anything that resembled a soft human body.

There was labored grunting as Schaefer twisted under my weight. A hint of tangy confusion twisted its way towards me. The world was getting clearer in that hollow way that eyes could not see. I felt the detectives muscles tense, ready to make a hard thrust upward. A second before he did I moved up.

His swing met empty air. Any momentum he could have used to get off the ground was gone. I peered back down, like a lamb waiting for slaughter Schaefer was outlined in an aura of fear. With my remaining arm I threw him from his heap of broken wood and into a shelf on the wall.

Broken bottles dribbled spirits onto the carpet. I didn't have to see to know that Schaefer was bleeding from the head and groped for the service pistol at his side. I came down on him before he had the thing aimed at me. My hand pinned his, I straddled him. Even if he had the strength to throw me again it wouldn't matter. I would keep coming. Nothing could stop me.

Schaefers face was getting clearer to me, from being outlined by traces and fear and anger, to having the details fleshed out by fleeting emotions and memories.

I looked at him from an inch away, wild panicked eyes looked back. The warm ground sagged beneath the two of us, humid wind traced its way down the soot covered street.

"Shit, Miles! Let me go!"

Now he was going to be sensible?

I took a breath, drinking in the savory taste of panic. I let my weight off of him for a second. Schaefer took the chance to wriggle away, he was gone at a sprint as soon as he got his feet under him. Where did he think he was going? I stood back on my charred street; a small swamp of hissing water had sprung up, a few of the derelict buildings had begun to sag into the black goo.

I walked after Schaefer. We were in a place of my making now; he could run all he wanted, it was only going to make him tired.

There might as well have been a trail of breadcrumbs leading to his hiding place. He cowered behind a burnt out car, helplessly groping for the pistol that wasn't at his side anymore. I came to a stop, the car sank and was swallowed by wet ground.

Schaefer scrambled to run again. I watched and basked in the cloud of confusion he left behind.

The idiot bolted to a house. I watched him force the door open and fling himself into the dark interior. Out of all the things he could have done he picked the worst possible choice.

I didn't have to move to reach the house, the world around me simply shifted to be the place that Schaefer had fled to. It was some sort of office building in here; hollow memories of people wondered this way and that, chatting around a water cooler and standing bleary eyed next to a copy machine.

Why was this the place that Schaefer brought himself to? What happened here that hurt him so much?

The man himself stood up from a paperwork covered desk.

"I'm going back to the thrift store, I think I missed something the first time." He huffed his way into a jacket.

"Hold on, I'll go with you." The man a table over scrambled to clear away some paper work.

"No, It's fine. I just got a hunch"

"Ok Schaefer, just watch yourself out there."

The detective walked away.

The office drifted away, swiftly being replaced by a run down pawn shop. What was that in the air? Dread? Anger? Some fine mix between the two that only grew when the door rang open and Schaefer stepped in. The man of the hour walked right past me; whatever memory he had trapped himself in was too strong for him to notice little old me.

The man behind the counter took no time to react to the detective,

"For the last damn time I don't got nothing for you" a grubby man spoke from behind the counter.

A customer grabbed their things from the counter and hurried away.

"Frank, you and I both know that's bullshit." The detective was wearing the same interrogating voice I'd heard at the Pierces.

"What's the real bullshit is you coming in and scaring away my customers" Frank grumbled.

"Ok, calm down. Just tell me what I want to know and I'll get out of your hair."

"I already told you, that girl you're looking for came in here last week and left real quick. That's it."

"Frank, I want to believe that, really I do, but you were the last one to see Vinessa before she went missing. There has to be something…"

This memory was starting to lose my attention. I let the two babble on and focused on the growing dread in the air instead. While I took the time to taste the scenery there was a burst of action and surprise from behind the counter.

Some box flew across the table, detective Schaefer ducked to avoid it. Before he was back to standing upright the shopkeeper had bolted out the front door.

"Son of a bitch!" The detective reached for the radio on his belt and yelled something about needing backup before following the man out of the building.

The memory warped around me to follow Schaefer. The boring shop melted away into a dreary alley. Schaefer stepped down the narrow path between buildings, the apprehension in the air grew thick and I happily drank it in. The shop keepers heavy footfalls faded in the grimey scenery. I watched from a new place among the garbage cans.

The detective drew his weapon and walked down the street.

"Come out and there won't be any problems." Despite the strong words his footsteps faltered with each passing inch.

An unnatural thickness settled in the alley. The sounds of the world were distant, like they were coming from underwater or from the other side of a wall. Traffic mumbled down the street, water dripped from a pipe somewhere, tendrils of fog licked the ground.

Schaefer tensed against the dark and damp.

I saw the scenery start to warp and twist behind the man. Whatever made this moment so deliciously agonizing was happening any second now.

There was a rush of movement and the clattering of trash cans, the shopkeeper bolted from a hiding place and down the alley. Schaefer ran after him with the gun still in hand. The two collided and toppled to the ground. I took a couple of steps closer to get a better view. The scene folded out in slowing motion. In the struggle Schaefers fingers tightened around the metal thing in his hand. A roar split through the commotion on the ground. From the street past the end of the alley a woman's agonized scream swallowed the dying sound of the gun.

The seconds distraction was all the shopkeeper needed to make his escape. After scrambling from the ground the detective took a step after him before another scream carried a twisted agony with it. The shopkeeper was still in sight when Schafer turned tail to go to the screaming street.

The air seemed to shatter with every step, the gray buildings bled a dull red. Schaefer's steps broke into another sprint. I watch from the mouth of the alley as he skidded to the side of a sobbing woman cradling a crumbled bundle of cloth with a growing patch of red.

The panic, the regret. It was the best thing I'd ever tasted.

"I need an ambulance!" Schaefer screamed into his radio.

The sirens of the back up he'd called earlier were bubbling in and out from the edge of the memory. The street seemed impossibly bright next to the gray alley. In a flurry of panic at the mistake he could never fix Shaeffer looked wild eyed for the backup.

The only thing for him to find was me leaning against the building.

"No, what? You? What are you doing here?"

The street grew brighter with the lights of police cruisers. The world twisted into nothing; the harsh lines of buildings being washed away by the searing light until the only thing left was the detective, myself, and the accidental dead boy.

"Where the hell am I!" a layer of anger tried to hide the regret and growing fear.

A hundred lumbering figures came from the edge of the glowing white void. I kept at my place leaning against a wall that was no longer there.

"Answer me damn it!"

I looked down at the little shock of red on the ground. The detective had worked missing persons in a big city by the looks of this memory. How many people had he never found?

Schaefer stopped his screaming at me at the sight of the growing hoard. Panic rolled off of him in heavy waves. I didn't try to fight the satisfied grin that twisted across my face. There was no where for the detective to run when the flood of people crashed into him.

Everyone was gaunt and gray. Their heavy feet crushed over the dead boy and labored words swelled from the crowed.

"You left us"

"Why did you stop looking?"

"You forgot me"

Schaefer struggled like a rat caught in a snake's coil. Long lost and nearly forgotten souls ripped at the man, bringing fresh pulses of regret and crushing sorrow. It didn't take long for the man too loose his will to fight the tide.

Had this been what he dreamed about last night? Was it the knowledge that he failed so many people that lead him to his first bottle? Well, it hardly mattered now.

The decadent waves of fear had stopped pulsing from the middle of the hoard. I took that as my signal. When I approached the lost and forgotten parted before me and left a pocket around the crumbled detective.

He was a gibbering wreck.

I put a hand on his shoulder, nothing fresh or tempinting was left to taste. It didn't take much force to pop the shoulder from its socket. The man on the ground didn't react.

Figures. One reminder of the past was enough to break the man. I should have been able to guess that from the start.

I leaned forward, a rib popped under the weight of my knee.

Oh well, he was fun while he lasted. At least I got a good meal out of him.

I took a last look at him. Vacant eyes stared back at me.

Pathetic.

My hand went through his chest like it was wet paper.

The burning white memory popped to black.

I fell through the nothing, then the world came into focus once again.

It was Schaefer's apartment, the same as I had left it. Bottles of booze were scattered across the ground and broken to glittering shards, the scent of the same wafted through the air and nearly made it impossible to focus on anything else.

My head screamed at me, every fibre of muscle that clung to my bones ached and begged me to stop moving while they twitched and demanded action at the same time. I compromised and tumbled backwards onto the soggy ground.

 _You've done it now._

 **Go away.** Wallrider? What was it talking about?

 _And leave you in charge?_

I shook myself back to my senses as well as I could manage. Phantom thoughts of a hunt still raced through my mind.

Hunt.

Shit.

"Schafer?" a few scattered memories trickled in. "hey, wake up" the small stream quickly grew to a flood. I shook the man, he stayed slumped against the wall.

"Schaefer? Schaefer, get the hell up!"

 _He's not waking up._

"Not now ghost" I used my only hand to feel for a pulse, for breathing, something.

I couldn't have killed him. No. I lost it, but not by that much. Right?

No pulse.

"Schaefer!" I shook him again.

Oh shit.

 _I told you so._

"Shut the fuck up!"

 _I don't know why you're so broken up about it. It's not like you haven't killed people before._

"I'm not a murderer!"

I stumbled to my feet. There wasn't anything I could do for Schaefer now.

 _The CEO, a score of regional managers, a swat team, a street full of police officers. You let Waylon die too._

"That's a low blow. Murkoff had deserved it. The others were accidents. I didn't kill Waylon, Murkoff did."

 _They might have pulled the trigger, but you could have stopped it. Instead you decided to take your time._

"You were there too. Don't act like you have the moral high ground." I still stood over the dead man. Why wouldn't I move?

 _Don't fool yourself into thinking that I feel remorse. I'm just pointing out the fact that you pretend that you're some knight in shining armour, but we both know that you never have been and never will be._

"At least I'm trying."

Tried as I might my eyes were still glued to the dead man on the ground. Whether it was the Walrider keeping me from moving, the dreamer disease keeping me near a fresh kill, or my own refusal to accept reality I don't know.

 _And look where that's gotten you._

My feet could have been made from lead for all I was able to move them.

I was still staring by the time I noticed that the swarm had started forming an arm in the sleeve of the jacket I wore. I fished around for the glove I had been wearing before, I must have had some sense because I found it tucked into my pocket. I brought myself to shuffle away while I fiddled with the glove.

 _Are you done with your little display?_

The lady one unit over was watching something emotional. A few refreshing wafts of sadness drifted through the building. I shook that observation from my head.

"As done as I'm going to be." I went to the sink to splash some water on my face, like that would do something to clear my mind.

While the cold water did something to bring me back to there here and now part of me couldn't help but know that the other dreamer was out there. He was going to the center of town. Why? I turned off the faucet. There was something there, something smaller but tempting.

"Do something to block that out. I don't want to deal with it."

 _Sorry your majesty; the other dreamer is just as connected to me as you are. Even if it weren't you're connected to it too. So make nice. Or kill it. We both know that's what you're best at._

"Get off you goddamned soap box already! Jesus fucking christ, since when did you start caring about people?"

 _I don't. I just want you to know that you've doomed both of us because you didn't listen to me in the first place._

I bit down a few more choice words. Everything was coming apart at the seams. I grabbed a towel and dried off that last bits of water that clung to my face. I grabbed the sunglasses and went to the front door. I had a hand on the knob before I thought about Schaefer again.

I couldn't just leave him here, who knows how long it would be before anyone found him.

 _No, no. We can just leave him here._

It would probably scar whoever found him.

I shook the thoughts away.

I took a quick glance around the room. Schafers keys and phone sat on a little table by the door. I picked up the cell.

To my surprise he didn't have a lock on it. A couple of seconds of snooping later and I found a contact that looked like it belonged to someone he worked with; most of the messages talked about cases and file numbers.

I really hope this isn't just some random person.

I typed out a short message:

Don't know who this is, there's been a crime at detective Schafers house. Send a squad car. The door's unlocked.

I hit send and hurried out the door.


	25. Poor Decisions

AN: Hello again, hope you enjoy the chapter. On a side note, Outlast 2 is out now and if you have the chance I highly recommend playing/watching it. I'm only like four hours in and it makes Outlast and Whistleblower look like a stroll through the park in comparison. If you want to hear a fangirl rant about it feel free to creep on my profile, enough about that here though. Thank you for reading and extra thank yous for reviews.

***Ch 25***

I huddled into the stolen jacket. I had called someone, that was at least a little better than just letting Schaefer lie waiting to be found in the apartment. Right?

 _There you go with the good guy act._

 **Don't pretend you're worried about it. It's not like we really have to worry about being** **arrested. They don't exactly make prisons that could keep you locked up.**

 _No, they don't. No one has a flair for the dramatic these days either. Have I ever told you about the time I was burned as a witch?_

 **I must missed that one.**

I wasn't in the mood for banter right now and tucked myself deeper into the jacket as I walked. The other dreamer was still on the move. The beacon that I couldn't quite place still sat in the middle of town. Even from this far away it was like a low hum wavering through the city.

 **Any idea what that is?**

… _No._

 **That didn't sound like a lie at all**

 _It's just some damaged person. You'll be attracted to them like a moth to flame. If you're so hell bent on putting off the inevitable I would recommend avoiding them._

 **Why's that one so hard to ignore.** I stopped walking and leaned against a lamp post

 _I told you. They're damaged._

 **Not telling me the whole story was how we ended up in the situation in the first place.**

 _Correction: your obsession with acting like a hero got us into this situation_

 **I'm tired and I don't want to argue about it. What aren't you telling me?**

The last thing I needed was more half truths and cryptic warnings. Besides, the other dreamer was going to the same place and I wanted to know what to expect when I got there.

 _You're not going to like it._

 **I'm surprised you're putting off telling me then.**

There was a familiar bit of annoyed static that faded quickly. _Fine then, it's the Park children._

I walked away from my spot against the lamp post.

 **What?**

 _They spent a month in a murkoff facility, don't tell me you didn't know they were damaged._

I quickened my pace. At the Pierces house Connor had been screaming "they're here" when the dreamers showed up. I didn't want to think about how, but he also knew that the walrider was gone.

 **When you say damaged, how bad are we talking?**

 _You know where they are from halfway across town, how bad do you think it is?_

That same dull throb that I had felt from the apartment still hung in the air. The other dreamer was getting closer too. I hadn't gotten too far from the apartment but the lure of it was almost enough to make me miss the police cruiser that was moving down the snowy street.

I had to stop myself from breaking out into a light trot.

 **What did murkoff do to them?**

 _How should I know._

 **Any ideas? By damaged do you mean normally, or are we saying variant levels of broken, or is it worse than that?** I didn't want to imagine that the boys were caught up in something as bad as the walrider project or the dreamer experiment, but I couldn't help but shake the memory of connor screaming they're here over and over again at the presence of the dreamers, about how off he had seemed when we left the Zeichner facility.

 _That would be easier for you to figure out at this point._

 **You're being even more useful than usual.**

Annoyed static came out of nowhere and didn't give any sign of clearing up.

I continued on my way, taking in the thickness of the air. Unlike the hundreds of little emotions that had drifted through the apartment this one was constant, like it was as much a part of the town as the buildings and people. Whatever was giving off that low ache wasn't something I would want running around in my head.

Calm down miles, Murkoff just does that to people. There's no reason to think that Connor had been made into the walrider 2.0.

Except for the fact that he knew the Walrider wasn't around when I had seen him. He was a kid, Lisa or Waylon never would have mentioned anything about Murkoff to him. How did he even know that there was something that could be missing in the first place?

I did my best to burrow into the jacket and my thoughts when a few more police cars drove past.

Had someone found Schaefer? That was faster than I had thought it would be.

One more person dead by my hands. Should I be going to wherever the Park boys were? Hadn't I already done enough to ruin the poor kids lives?

No, the other dreamer was going there too and it wouldn't hesitate to do god knows what. I had to beat it to the punch, then beat it to a bloody pulp.

A voice came through the ever present static. _And then what? Assuming you get that far._

 **I don't know and it doesn't matter; I'll figure it out when I get there.**

 _Well you had better figure it out quickly because we're getting close._

It was right; if I squinted I'm sure I would have been able to see whatever it was that was drawing me to the Parks. The other dreamer was getting closer too, it was maybe two miles away. I was outside of a walgreens near the center of town. The parking lot was mostly empty of cars and home to piles of snow and slush.

The inside of the building was as empty as the lot outside. An underpaid twenty something stood behind the cash register, one or two people wandered the isles. The Parks were somewhere near the back, by the pharmacy.

I went to the nearest aisle and pretended to browse the shelves.

 _Self restraint from you? That's a surprise._

 **Not even you could make me get any closer. Besides, I'm here for the other dreamer. The kids have been through enough.**

 _Right, the other dreamer. Don't tell me you plan on fighting it._

 **Well…**

The heaviness in the air grew in concentration.

 _What happens when I get pulled back to it? You'd be left blind and unarmed._

 **...It's blind too.**

 _This isn't the time for jokes._

 **Fine, then you'll just have to make sure not to listen to it.**

 _That didn't work at the house and that didn't work in Chicago. What makes you think it'll work now?_

 **I could dive into some sentimental bullshit about how much we've been through, or I could point out the fact that you put a bunch of weird symbols on my back and used them to pilot yourself right back into my head. What other tricks do you have?**

 _...No. absolutely not._

 **It's do or die. Pick one.**

 _Either way it looks like the same thing to me._

 **You are such a drama queen.**

 _I don't think you understand. You can't just go around messing with arcane things you don't understand._

It was getting closer. I had to fight to ignore the hum in the air.

 **I've got you tied to the inside of my skull, I think I get it loud and clear.**

 _You really don't. You can't just go around etching sigils into wherever you damn well please, that was a last ditch effort._

 **This is pretty last ditch too. Besides the dreamers are a disease, If I go down you go down with me.**

 _You're 'going down' regardless of what I do._

 **Then what does it matter to you how crazy of an idea I have?**

 _Because I would like to be able to leave when this is all said and done. I've existed for millennia, I've known you for a year._

Ouch.

 **That doesn't change anything. You're still stuck with dreamer infection, you said it yourself.**

I almost couldn't hear the annoyed static over the groaning air that filled the building.

 _I loath you._

 **You too-**

"Miles?" a little voice rose above the conversation in my head.

My skin went crawling and as much as I didn't want to I felt myself look to the side. Connor stared quizzically back up at me.

Fuck.

"You have it back?" the kid muttered just above hearing.

"Uhhh…. Go find your grandma." I hastily stepped away to, I don't know, the bathroom?

Connor followed me, I stopped in another aisle. I wasn't about to let him follow me into the back rooms.

"Go away" I tried, and failed, not to sound like a madman. The waves of tempting emotion bombarded me through the air. I fought down the urge to do what I had at the apartment, barely managing that I fought down the urge to vomit out of disgust for myself.

"But it's almost here."

"Then go get your grandma and leave."

"But she's going to die today"

Huh? No, I'm not going to get into that. I don't want to know-

"What? Why?" I asked in spite of myself,

Damn it.

 _Leave._

 **We've been over this. No.**

There wasn't another reply before my legs started moving without my input.

 **Don't fight me on this. We're staying.**

 _You don't have the energy to fight me while you're busy fighting yourself._

The store seemed to drift in and out of focus under the wavering air. I did what I could to hold my ground, but I still took a few teetering steps down the hall.

 _I changed my mind. We're using your idea._

The dreamer was getting closer It couldn't be more than a few blocks away. Connor was saying something. I couldn't quite make it out, the words didn't really make sense, it didn't sound like english. Or was I imagining that? I had to be.

 _Move._

The ripples in the air were visible now. No one else seemed to notice them, no one else could. It wasn't the same as it was before, not the same tempting call for action that I had felt on the street. This was sinister, like the tension in the air before an ambush. Had I done something stupid again?

Probably.

I blinked out of my confusion. I was behind the store now, when had I gone outside?

 _Sit down, this is going to be painful._

 **Wha-**

"Gaahh…" I crumble down to the ground, sightless.

What felt like fire trailed down my back and washed over my legs. Shrieking static blocked out the sound of my pained grunts. Every bone in my body cracked and reformed carrying sigils and scars.

 _Hold still. This is delicate work!_

I groped at the ground just for something solid to hold on to. Before I steadied myself a sharp pain jolted through my brain. I could have taken an ax to the head and it would have been less painful. As quickly as I found myself flat on the ground writhing in agony the pain stopped and the static faded.

I did my best to focus on the sky above me and cold ground below. Anything to bring my senses back to the back alley.

 **What the fuck was that.**

 _That was desperate. Also, that was your idea. Never forget that._

The aura in the air still called like a siren from inside the store, but that creeping thing that sat just below the surface seemed louder. More clear.

I took much too long to stand up.

 **What is that?**

 _Someone I didn't think I'd ever have to deal with again._

 **Someone?**

Murkoff had done it, the bastards. They had gone and fucked with more things they could ever hope to understand, and now there was another monster on the loose and it had gone and buried itself in a helpless kid. I went too easy on them.

I was nearly too busy choking down that new tide of anger to notice the other dreamer sprint past the front of the building.

"Not today" I did my best to run back to the entrance.


	26. Gray

AN: Hello again and happy Friday, I hope the week has treated everyone well. Also, please enjoy the chapter and feel free to tell me what you think of it by leaving a review.

***26***

 **Do I have you with me now, or not?**

 _I couldn't go anywhere now even if I wanted to._

It sounded more sombre about that than I was expecting.

I didn't have too long to dwell on that before I rounded the corner and came to the front of the store. The sliding door was off its track and lay shattered on the ground. I couldn't have been but a few seconds behind the other dreamer but the store already looked like a tornado had hit it. I took a hasty step into the disheveled building. Glass crunched under my feet, a small yelp of surprise came from behind the counter, followed by a fresh waft of tempting fear.

I walked past the cowering employees hiding place. As much as I would have liked to ignore it I tried my best to focus on the deep hum coming from wherever Connor had run off to. The only other option was giving into that dark corner of my mind that wanted to dive behind the counter and finnish the poor cashier off.

I didn't have to look very far or very hard to find the other dreamer slamming against a locked bathroom door in the back of the shop. It didn't turn to acknowledge me, but it knew I was there regardless. It's right leg was emaciated like the rest of it and covered in silvery scar tissue. It's been far too long since it had gotten a proper meal or any rest. I should help it.

No, you stop that right now!

Shaking a few more dark thoughts way I went down the hall, jerked the thing out from the middle of a lunge and sent it flying into a far wall with a familiar strength.

It scurried back to its feet, each thuggish limb scuttling like an insect's. It leveled itself and opened its dry and ragged mouth to let out a low moan that fused with the one radiating from the bathroom door. It was a call for unity, and invitation to hunt as a pack. Whatever was behind that door wasn't one to go down easily. We had to work together…

I shook those ideas away once again. I would figure out the situation with Connor when I got the chance, in the meantime I wasn't about to let this thing murder an old lady and a couple of kids. I didn't have much to cling to in the way of moral high ground, but this is where I drew the line.

I squared up with my back to the bathroom door.

The other dreamer coiled against the far wall.

Something terrible and tempting called from the bathroom.

The dreamer moved first, faster than lighting it was in the air and aiming at the door. With my swarm arm I swatted it to the ground. The tile cracked where it's boney body landed with a thud; a leg jutted out in a wild flail and swept me off my feet. I was on the ground with it like I had been every other time I'd brawled with one of the things. This time was different, I'd already seen the madness that this thing thrived on. That was part of my own psychosis now.

Its dried hands dug into any flesh it grabbed hold of, each deep cut healed as the thing moved to a new hand hold. It's crumblin face reached my own and it let loose a rumbling moan that demanded obedience. We were a pack now, hunting as one. It wondered if I could not see that.

Chipped nails slashed at my face and eyes, like it was trying to dig itself into me. The sunglasses I had worn went clattering across the chipped tile, I grabbed the papery skin of its bald head with the arm of swarm. For half a second I saw myself back in Chicago, with the swarm turned against me and being used to pull the muscle from my bone. I shook the memory away, the Walrider was still here, though I felt the dreamer above me tugging at the demon that it had once stolen from me.

The swarm ripped through the soiled and tattered rags that were still tied over the things grown over eye sockets. The moan grew to shake the walls and mix into the ever present hum that radiated from the bathroom door. It stopped tearing at my eyes and frantically swatted at the swarm. I took the chance and used my free arm to throw the thing to the side. Fueled by what was becoming blind anger I found myself hunched over the things tattered body. I grabbed it by the shoulder and thrashed it into the wall. It went limp like a rag doll, I swung it onto the ground.

Each motion drew me a little closer to a breaking point. This thing had gone around murdering who knows how many people. I felt its memories of tearing through the hospital a couple days ago. How many were dead from just that? And then there was the time between the massacre at the Zeichner facility and now. How long had it had to kill its way across the country with no real reason in mind?

It wasn't like when I murdered someone.

I stuttered a bit in my thrashing with thing around.

No. I didn't murder there was a reason for what I did.

The walls around me had been bashed in too far to be any more of a use so I slammed the limp dreamer into the cracked ground instead.

I wasn't like this thing. I never would be. No, that was impossible.

I had left a man dead in his own home after ripping into the center of his mind and eating him alive.

I threw the full weight of the swarm into my next throw of the dreamer.

I loved every second of it, almost as much as I loved watching Murkoff workers desperately tried to run when they saw me coming, only to fail because I had destroyed their legs.

Bones in the dreamers shoulder cracked and ripped loose from the joints that held them.

This thing was a monster.

I flung it into one of the few remaining shelves.

That thing had been a man once.

There was no more moaning from its broken body. Nothin crossed its decrepit mind, for the first time in what felt like far too long of a time there was no third set of thoughts running through my mind. No sense of being where I wasn't, of knowing what it knew.

There was nothing left in the store but the hum from the bathroom, the buzzing of static and my own heavy breathing.

That thing had been a man before Murkoff got to it.

 _So were you, you know._

I shrugged off the thought, the presence from the next room was getting stronger. I pulled the full force of swarm closer to me, no need to let it whip about the store now.

The bathroom door squeaked open on miss-aligned hinges.

"It's gone!" a little tear streaked Connor stood in the doorway.

Behind him sat a sobbing Garret who was curled up against his unmoving grandmother.

The air rippled around the little boy in the doorway, something gray slithered this way and that around his tiny frame.

Stronger now that it had ever been before, the urge to lunge at the little boy screamed at me to move.

I held my ground. I wasn't a monster. I wasn't a monster and I wasn't going to do that…

 _"Well, it's been a long time since we last met."_

Some wavering voice came from the hum that hang in the air. It wasn't the Walrider, that was for sure.

The trace of gray swelled into the silhouette of a person behind connor, who was still muttering about "it" being gone.

One wayward twitch and I would be ready to take a swing at damn near anything that came at me. To relieve some tension I took to my oldest trick: mouthing off.

"Ok asshole, I don't know what dark corner you crawled out of but I'm not in the mood right now, so get out of the kid before this gets ugly."

 _Are you trying to get yourself killed?!_ The walrider screamed from inside my head.

 **At this point? Probably.**

Whatever bullshit Murkoff had managed to conjure laughed in my face.

 _"You've stooped low since we last talked."_ the voice came from nowhere once again

"I get it, you're not talking to me, but come on; I'm right here. Talking like someone's not even in the room is rude you know."

 _I don't even know why I try with you anymore._

The shadow behind Connor flickered a bit, not unlike the walrider would do with the swarm when it was annoyed. The swarm itself twisted into the ghostly shape of a man with no features and hovered slightly to my right.

 _"Balthophed. It's been a long time."_ The static voice that I so often heard from inside my own head came into the room. For some odd reason my skin crawled at the sound of it.

 _"So I wasn't mistaken. You are still slumming it here on the mortal plane."_ The thin gray shadow glided over the murmuring child it had been behind. _"It looks like you've gotten some new tricks since we've last talked."_

The wave of sweet grief that flowed into the air followed the ghostly figure, though a hundred little emotions ranging from a savory fear to zesty confusion still swirled up from Connor and the room behind him.

I bit my tongue. No, I'm dealing with the walriders little ghost friend and the getting the hell out. That was it.

 _"...don't even think about Balthophed. It will end badly for you."_

 _"Is that a threat?"_

A gray tendril snaked its way up from the incorporeal figure. Slowly, like it were some scientific probe the little thing reached towards me.

Enough of this. I had to move, to do anything. The temptation in the air was getting to be too much and if I waited much longer I would do something regrettable. The gray thread wasn't but a couple of inches away when I whipped the swarm that wasn't forming the walriders body around in a wave that enveloped the gray man before me. The invisible force that carried the little beads of metal twisted around the demon, it's gray form became lost in the fuzzy black of nanobots. The shape of a man ripped apart like a tissue in a tornado. I let the swarm rage in the air until there was nothing left to resist it. The black in the air floated back into the cloud that had surrounded me a moment earlier.

"That was supposed to be a threat. Right?" I spoke to the figure of the walrider that now sat motionless in the air.

Before it had the chance to reply a gray layer of something unknown rippled across the interior of the store. I looked back at Connor who stood in the the center of a slightly darker ring. A suffocating madness, something that demanded I ripped into the source of this power, twisted its way into the room. I held my ground, the broken shelves and shriveled body of the dead dreamer were flung to the far walls with an invisible force. Mirrors and bottles cracked, lights flicked and popped, raining down hissing sparks. Garret screamed between sobs from the back.

 _You idiot! That was a bluff! I was bluffing!_

The unseeable force whipped over me, peeling the swarm away in the fearsome gail.

"You want to kill me too?" Connon choked out between sobs. Another compression wave racked through the store.

"No, Connor. It's fine. Everything's fine. Uh-" I did my best to hold firm. Weather or not I was fighting the urge to lunge or run away I didn't know.

The little boy screamed, the walrider retreated back into my head, and I went flying across the room.


	27. Things to Come

AN: Hey guys, another week means another chapter so yay. Also I finished up Outlast 2, so if you're looking on information/explanations about the story I have an almost embarrassingly long theory on my profile so feel free to check that out. More importantly though thanks to splinterclaw for reviewing (really, thanks to all three of you who have commented it means a ton) and I hope everyone enjoys the chapter.

***Ch 27***

The shelving bent and rained broken bottles down on me. For the eighth time in a handful of seconds I went tumbling through the air again. With all the willpower I had left I tried to grab onto something, anything, to steady myself or brace for the landing. I didn't find anything and instead got to break my fall with my remaining arm.

 **Do something!**

 _I am!_

I was getting bashed into the ceiling now, then I was half buried into the ground.

The power of that other creature that had buried itself into Connor's mind was thick in the air. If I were in any other state of mind I would have been doing my best to shut it out, but now it was the only thing I had to hold on to. As I was getting used as a wrecking ball I felt the thing trying to rip me apart from the inside like I had done to so many other people. This wasn't some weak parlour trick like the figure had been, this was something that made everything I had done pale in a comparison of shear power.

The front counter toppled over and tumbled into the wall from the force of my body slamming into it, a second later I was sent flying again. I tried to reach out with the swarm, only for it to be wiped away. Well that was fucking helpful.

The trip through the air was one filled with more screaming and fighting not to be ripped limb from limb. If this thing was so high and god damned mighty then why was it fighting like a little bitch and throwing me around instead of taking a real swing! There was another push to rip my torso in half, The Walrider did what it could to fight against the demon.

I had other plans.

The thing still radiated madness and fear, I latched onto that like it was the only thing I had ever known. It noticed and did what it could to break free. I was dropped onto the rubble floor. The peace wouldn't last long. I felt another wave coming. Without thinking I ripped at the wall next to me. It had to be barely standing at this point, but I found a pipe for the plumbing and gripped it. Just as I did another wave of force swirled through the room.

My feet lifted from the ground but my hand held firm.

Anger joined the mix, some of it my own, some of it the walriders, most of it that other demons. My skin crawled, my grip tightened, I drank it in. I could see it now, the way I had seen Schaefer in his last moments alive. The beast was a clear as day, draped over Connor like a murderous coat. A hundred thin arms whipped this way and that around the room creating the storm that ravaged the store. A few of them wrapped around my legs and meant to bash me into a thousand different places. More arms joined in to pull at me harder.

In a blur I let go of the pipe and gripped one of the arms that held my shoulder. I went barreling through the air once again, this time I looked down at the thing on Connor's shoulders. It hated me, and I it. Tiny limbs ripped at me like everytime before but now it was different. I welcomed them with open arms, the beast realised too late that I had it right where I wanted it.

Blinding, hungry anger drove me closer to the demon along its own frantic arms. For every inch I earned it pueraid another organ, only for the Walrider to follow behind it and repair the damage. Terrified children's screams pierced the air, whether or not they were Connors or the demons coming through Connor's lips I didn't care. The son of a bitch was going to die here today and it was going to be delicious.

The hurricane happening around me was losing steam as the demon became more and more focused on just saving itself. I wonder, had it know what the dreamers were? Did it know that this would happen? It had to have had some idea.

Not that it mattered. The thing pumped more anger and now fear into the air, I breathed the emotions in and drew ever closer to Connor. Any semblance of normal vision cut out as the walrider was spending more time keeping my body in one piece. It didn't matter though, the gray demon that strained to stay embedded on Connor's shoulders glowed with a silver lights that called to me like a beacon in the dark.

A little closer now, my feet touched the ground. I took growing steps against the dying wind that tried frantically to push me back.

I could touch it now, so much life, so much desperation, so much power, it all poured out from the gray demon and the boy beneath it. The swarm could finally stand up to the dieing storm. I reached out, little beads of cold lead reached into the beast and child, my hand came to grip something small and solid. The desperate hum in the air cut out, Conners screaming dropped to nothing and left only a distant echo hanging in the air.

The world that had been a crumbling drugstore reformed into the night-dimmed halls of a home. A handful of faceless black-clad men toting rifles and kevlar tore down the hall and through where I stood. This was Donalds house, the night after Mount Massive just over one year ago. Little nodes of fear and confusion swirled through the air, I followed them like a ghost to the basement.

Half way down the stairs the world shook out of focus only to come back a shade darker and devoid of color. Thick, oily, misery soiled the ground; I let myself wallow in it as I continued on my way. At the bottom of the stairs was the basement. Connon and Garrett sobbed in a far corner, the ground between me and them glowed with a hot red light. Lisa -their mother- was little more than a twisted lump on the floor; her limbs flung at odd angles and frozen that way in death. A distorted memory of Waylon screamed and howled in a useless rage on the ground. A man towering taller than the room would allow curled over the scene.

I wish I could have been here when this happened, instead of being resigned to wallow through a memory of it. Mostly because it was all I could do I picked my way over the dead mother and wounded father to the children who sat in the back of the room. Connor, as deep as he was in his own personal hell, saw me through the haze of trauma.

He screamed "No, go away! Go away!"

I did not go away.

The boy scuttled backwards until he hit the wall, then he just flailed in a failed attempt to move further. The secen folded out in slow motion, the tall man on the other side of the room spoke in deep distorted words, Waylon drug himself across the ground to Lisa, a petrified Garret had slow tears crawling over his face. I drank in the fear. While I savoured the moment thin gray tendrils phased through the wall and roof, like probes reaching in and searching for something they had lost long ago.

I took a second to consider the new thing in the room. I was here for it, not the small thing cowering against the wall. With some alien speed that I hadn't grown used to having I tore my way up the wall and latched onto the gray arms hanging from the ceiling. They shuddered and flailed, as if the great beast that they were attached to had been burned and was desperately trying to flee the flames. The room shook under the force of the arms. I ripped what I could reach away from the demons unseen body, the remains faded from the dream world as I did leaving me there to consume the power they had held. The room shuddered and deformed under the beasts struggle, bits of drywall and plaster started to flake from the walls, great rifts formed in the ceiling. Through them I could see an endless gray void where currents of a slightly darker shade thrashed this way and that.

Connor had not stopped screaming, though when the room twisted and cracked I heard his little feet hit the ground and carry him in a spirit over the fearsome memory and up the stairs.

I would deal with that later.

Now there was more emptiness than building left. I clung to the mass of energy that had nearly torn me limb from limb in the real world. This was my place now, there was no hope for this thing in the uncaring, unending, void of its own psyche.

Between the fading and deformed shards of Connor's memory a thick black haze- something that stood in stark contrast with the pale gray- snaked its way out from the empty places of my mind.

" _Balthophed! You old fool, I told you this would end badly for you."_ The static voice of the Walrider buzzed out into the gray. A more solid black shape of a faceless man formed from the dark cloud.

" _You wouldn't dare kill me."_ The shrinking bundle of shifting gray produced words from some unknown place.

" _I wouldn't, but he might"_

I tightened my grip on the thing. Yes, I would be the one to wipe this monster from the earth, whatever past it had with the Walrider was none of my concern.

The gray pleaded with the black " _You have to know killing me will only sign your death warrant."_

" _You're too late, I already signed it myself!"_

Whatever they were talking about meant nothing to me. The gray demon was on it's last leg; I felt new waves of power stronger than I had ever know crashing over me. This time I didn't fight it, there was no reason to, nothing holding me back.

" _Bastard, if you don't listen to me, maybe your dog will."_ The void was crumbling away. The words were small and distant, the gray demon was barely bigger than my hand now.

The void was crumbling away.

The gray broke into hulking masses, scattering bits of rubble as they fell. Behind the tattered void was a new layer of images. These were the dying thoughts of something ancient, the remaining slivers of a thing that had once been great washed over me.

The visions behind the void were not of a memory, but rather of something that has yet to come. A thousand howling voices called up from a burning pit, wayward screams- some of pain others of perverted joy- wafted upwards carried on an acid wind.

Some hellish horde rose up from its infernal prison. It flooded the land as a dark tide lead by something that lusted for spilled blood. Small towns in the west were the first to fall to the black tide, cults twisted their way into power and did evil things in the name of masters they did not understand. Next the cities crumbled under the weight of madness. Brother killed brother in the streets, fathers slaughtered families, not a soul was spared.

In that second I had a moment of clarity.

I was doing something wrong.

The last threads of this great thing gave way. The scene before me blinked out of existence, the gray void fell away as rubble. I was left in a familiar hall standing over Waylon's lifeless body. Beyond the growing pool of blood stood Garret and Connor. Both were sobbing, but when he saw me Connor spoke in a frightened whisper.

"Go… away…"

We were still in his personal hell.

What the fuck was I doing?

"Leave me alone!" the small boy screeched.

The echoes of what I had just seen were still fresh in my mind. The power of the demon I had just killed buzzed through me.

My job here was done.

I looked back at Connor. I did my best to step back into the hall behind me.

"Make it all go away" he said through heavy breaths.

The room faded into a haze. The gray and blue of the Zeichner facility twisted away and became brown rubble. Broken shelves and lights hanging by frayed wires greeted me back to the store. There was no more low hum in the air, nothing came from the little body that laid at my feet.

A cloud of swarm floated around me, a pang of fear and anger split the air and caught my attention.

Garret was still in the bathroom.

He was no longer slumped against his grandmother, who sat with a stillness that could only mean she was dead. The young boy was standing and shaking with a grief that he had grown far too familiar with.

I pulled the swarm in as close as I could.

"..." What could I say at a time like this?

Garret shook like the last leaf on a tree in the middle of a hurricane. In spite of his effort an ugly sob would occasionally force its way up from his lungs.

"Uh…" I edged back ever so slightly. I may have just absorbed some ancient creature, but the dreamer infection still prodded at me to lunge at the kid.

There were distant sirens under the sound of sobbing. Someone must have called the police after they noticed the neighborhood drugstore going all to hell. I started moving away more quickly.

I was nearly at the door and Garret was still just standing there, sobbing over the little form of his brother.

I hadn't killed the kid. I couldn't have. He was still alive when I left.

And yet…

No, he would wake up. It would be ok. It had to be.

As much as I told myself I didn't have more blood on my hands I couldn't help but notice that there was nothing coming from the little body that laid on the floor. No turbulent nightmares or traces of fear. No hints of happiness from a safe dream.

I reached the gaping hole that was once a door. The sirens were getting closer. I turned tail and ran.

I ran away from the destruction I had caused. I ran away from the lives I had managed to ruin just a little more.

I ran away.


	28. Epilogue, He Who Fights Monsters

I had run to the west. Well, really I had run to a bus stop. Before then I had run to another store and got new clothes. At any rate I was sitting on a nearly empty greyhound doing my best not to notice anyone or be noticed by anyone.

I fidgeted with the glove I wore over my fake hand.

 **You've got some explaining to do.**

 _What makes you think that I have to explain anything to you?_

I swallowed down a lump of annoyance.

 **Don't be an asshole about it, you saw what I did to your friend back there.**

 _I would have called Balthophed many things, but friend isn't one of them._

 **Of course. Stop avoiding the conversation, what was it showing me?**

 _Nothing important._

I shifted in my seat. There was a woman four rows behind me, from the feel of things she had just had a very bad year and was hoping to start new somewhere far away. She would be an easy target and no one would miss her if she were gone. I shifted in my seat again.

No.

 _See, you need me. We both know you don't have the self control to keep the cravings at bay._

 **You're still avoiding the topic. What did Balthophed show me?**

 _Calm down. I was going to tell you anyways, after all there are no secrets between us._

If the Walrider were solid I would have thrown it from the moving bus.

 _Some texts would call it the apocalypse, but that's just humans being dramatic. The closest translation is "The Wild Hunt"._

 **Not the apocalypse my ass, there were cities burning to the ground.**

 _It's not. The whole thing lasts maybe a week. I had every intention of joining in, it's been far too long since the last hunt anyways._

 **Absolutely fucking not.**

 _Oh please, don't pretend that you aren't at least interested._

I was. That dark corner of my brain talked the rest of me into actually wanting to. My skin didn't crawl and my stomach didn't churn at the thought of ripping through a town and feasting on its inhabitants. I didn't bat an eye at the idea.

I was okay with the idea, but I knew better.

I had spent the last year doing nothing but ridding the world of monsters, figurative and literal. I'll be damned if that doesn't mean anything. I'll be damned if I just throw that away and fling myself headlong into evil.

 _You killed a child less than two days ago. You're already there._

 **He was alive.**

 _Keep telling yourself that._

The woman a few rows back had started weeping quietly. What was she leaving behind?

 **Don't think you can drag me into the mud with you. Don't forget about the graffiti on my bones, you're trapped with me now.**

 _One the contrair, you're the one bound to me._

 **There's nothing stopping me from just eating a bullet if you ever get to be too much.**

 _It's pretty optimistic to assume that I would let that be fatal. Besides, you don't listen, do you? I told you we're trapped together, that extends into death._

 **Cut me a break, even marriage ends when one of them kicks it.**

I may have been desperately trying to ignore the woman four rows back and I may have been considering suicide purely to spite the walrider, but that didn't mean that I couldn't be a sarcastic ass about it.

 _Very cute, but I'm being serious. You were the one to demand it, I simply obliged._

 **Don't remind me.**

I huddled in my seat again, this time distracting myself by adjusting the sunglasses that hid my eyes from view. If whatever fucked up little vision Balthophed had shown me was actually a possibility I couldn't let it happen. As much as I wanted it to, as much as the Walrider wanted it to, I couldn't let it happen.

The bus droned on. The scenery outside flickered by. The woman four rows back still wept.

I had to stop this thing.

**AN: Hey guys, so umm... one of the reviews said they were expecting a huge middle finger and, welp. This is the last chapter. Surprise. I want to start this off with an I'm sorry for not telling anyone this would be the last one, but it would have killed the suspense and tone in the last chapter. Also, I've been planning this ending for a while and it's obvious that, while this story is done, there's still something much bigger going on. That being said there will be a third story.

So, double surprise, it was a trilogy all along.

I have a kind of crazy summer planned so I'll probably get around to the third story in September 2017. I don't know the title yet but I will update this chapter when I get a date and name decided.

Scratch the above: The 3rd story will be called "Losers", and I will be putting the first chapter up on Monday, September 18th.

In the mean time I hope you all the best, and feel free to go yell at me in the review section I would love to know what you thought of this Fic and any theories you have about the next one. Also, a final huge thank you for the handful of people who reviewed, really there is no better compliment to a writer than feedback.


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